


heaven has different signs to me

by bertiesbeebox



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Based on Park Jisung's LYSN status updates, Canon Compliant, ChenJi's This and That Ep. 19 1st Anniversary Award Ceremony, Chenji's This and That Ep. 18 Happy Birthday to my Chenle, Elle Korea Magazine Photoshoot, Established Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jisung's Poem: The Sky and the Earth, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Minor Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, homophobia ? i dont know them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22102099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bertiesbeebox/pseuds/bertiesbeebox
Summary: What's love to you?Behind the secrets that lie within Park Jisung's LYSN status updates, Zhong Chenle tries to uncover the whispers of his own heart by discovering the meaning of the word love.
Relationships: Park Jisung/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 50
Kudos: 147





	1. the birds begun at four o’clock

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to twt users [formyjisung](https://twitter.com/formyjisung?s=20) for the [translations](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1207253726580207616?s=20) and [chenjistar](https://twitter.com/chenjistar?s=20) (ao3 : [cosmicdusts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicdusts/pseuds/cosmicdusts)) for explaining their love for frozen 2 since i havent watched it yet ;;
> 
> ! IMPORTANT NOTE ! 
> 
> altho this is based on jisung's lysn updates it's v difficult to align it based on their timeline so i just use scenes or such to progress the story there isnt a specific timeline btw lol 
> 
> the work title and the chapter titles all came from the poems of [emily dickinson](http://lgnavigators.weebly.com/uploads/5/8/5/2/58521739/the_complete_poems_of_emily_dic_-_emily_dickinson.pdf) i hope u like it 🥺🥺 thank u for ur support love u uwu here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3bj9Xp7wfRKfkY5JsVtIM9?si=DtRBzLVmTQiwRU0wJA0-Cg) i used while writing 
> 
> **Heaven has different Signs—to me**
> 
> _“Heaven” has different Signs—to me—  
>  Sometimes, I think that Noon  
> Is but a symbol of the Place—  
> And when again, at Dawn,_
> 
> _A mighty look runs round the World  
>  And settles in the Hills—  
> An Awe if it should be like that  
> Upon the Ignorance steals—_
> 
> _The Orchard, when the Sun is on—  
>  The Triumph of the Birds  
> When they together Victory make—  
> Some Carnivals of Clouds—_
> 
> _The Rapture of a finished Day—  
>  Returning to the West—  
> All these—remind us of the place  
> That Men call “paradise”—_
> 
> _Itself be fairer—we suppose—  
>  But how Ourself, shall be  
> Adorned, for a Superior Grace—  
> Not yet, our eyes can see—_
> 
>   
> 

> [_I'm NCT DREAM's Jisung! Come on! [ ... ] rather than come on!_ _[ ... ] Frozen was so fun ㅜㅜ I watched it twice_ ❤](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1207325706151059457?s=20)

It was four in the morning when his phone rang and its familiar ringing roused him from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes from the sudden disturbance that continued to chime, for his risen state found it difficult to reach the location of his phone, Zhong Chenle didn’t have to check to know that his best friend has, once again, decided to disrupt his precious hours of repose. He supposed he was at fault, of course, since he never told him off—not once in their four years of friendship, but their hyungs also didn’t, making their maknae more spoiled than he already is.

 _He’s cute though,_ Chenle would often think because he is. Thus, finding Park Jisung smiling at him after the elder accepted his video call sent a peculiar throb—an uninvited rush of warmth would soon color Chenle’s cheeks, thank the heavens it was dark enough for the younger to see.

“Chenle-ya,” Park Jisung called with his youthful giggles particularly frustrating seeing as the elder didn’t even find him annoying for waking him up at these ungodly hours of the night—morning, whatever, “watch Frozen with me. It’s so fun! Anna, Olaf—everyone is so cute!”

“Didn’t you watch it twice already?”

“But I want to watch it with you!”

“What’s the difference?”

Zhong Chenle’s cold reception of Jisung’s invitation stifled the boy from further pressing his best friend to watch that dreaded movie. Chenle found it odd why two grown people, especially his Renjun-ge, were so positively engrossed in watching a children’s movie when there are plenty of films more sophisticated and appropriate for their ages. Park Jisung wouldn’t grow well if he keeps himself lost in fairytales and nursery rhymes.

“I just want to enjoy it with you. I watched the first movie when I was barely a teen—it’s just, well, nice to see how much they’ve grown,” Jisung would whisper into the night’s stillness, the muted tinges of the phone screen would emit an array of color, each conveying a different persona. But Park Jisung would remain as Park Jisung despite whatever tint would reflect through his being, “It makes you think of how much you’ve grown too.”

Ever so scared of growing—but he was trying and Chenle supposed that’s what counts.

Thus, with a defeated yet adoring sigh, Zhong Chenle returned a giggle of his own, soft and low as was the air in his apartment, but ever so genuine just like each and every perception of his being.

“I’ll watch it with you this weekend,” whispering his promise to no one but this inquisitive boy whose curiosity continues to blossom after each and every passing year. If Zhong Chenle couldn’t spy the faint glimmers of the stars in the night sky, it wasn’t difficult to see it in the younger’s eyes.

Sparks flew after the elder’s decree, a silent promise only for them to see that Park Jisung couldn’t contain his glee. His beam was so wide and happy that Zhong Chenle wouldn't give it to the world—never ever in any universe.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Park Jisung proclaimed, his thrill ever so apparent but his spirit appeared lost for some peculiar reason.

His heart was always bare and exposed for anyone to uncover, making it easy for people to read whatever lies underneath. The boy was never quiet, that much was true and certain, but amongst strangers—even when they were with their hyungs, he would cower behind his tall build and conceal his very identity, but this hour existed only between them, two boys trying to figure out their way in the world.

And Chenle knew Park Jisung by the back of his big, big hand—ever so disastrous, but it possessed all the wonders nonetheless.

“You okay, Jisung-ah?”

The younger met his gaze, his eyes faded and faint, for once, but Park Jisung had always been a bad liar so he didn’t even try to offer deceits especially when it came to Zhong Chenle.

 _It’s as if your hearts beat as one_.

Their Renjun-hyung would remark, ever the most romantic and the most candid in their group—but of course, still idiotic enough to utter such a thing that would make Park Jisung (and himself) into a much louder mess than he already is. The color rose so high on his cheeks that he was red from morning till evening, stuttering like a fool— _a very cute fool though_.

These hours of peace and tranquility, however, brought a different air on Park Jisung bringing about a restlessness in Chenle's often carefree state, for the younger grew more courageous, more sensitive, and more genuine—a character Zhong Chenle couldn’t help but fear at times since this Jisung was unrestrained and unaffected by whatever circumstance that his words could afflict.

_And he was unfair._

“I miss you.”

_So, so unfair._

Zhong Chenle looked away from his phone’s screen and turned his attention towards the ends of his fingertips, their flesh bitten and stripped—the most unflattering part of his body. But, if he would ask Park Jisung— _this_ Park Jisung, who appeared more dangerous and more upfront with every bit of his feelings, the elder was certain that this boy would smile at him before kissing the tips and calling him _beautiful, beautiful, beautiful_ on repeat.

God, he was so happy that the light was dim enough to conceal the redness filling on both his cheeks.

“We just saw each other yesterday,”

“Not enough to keep me from missing you,”

“Go to sleep, Jisung _pabo_ ,” he said, finally meeting the younger’s gaze—a look so heated and true that he feared one more word and confessions would flow, out and exposed to the world.

“Aren’t you going to say it in return?”

Park Jisung was now pouting, his eyebrows creased together and a frown laid bare on his lips. If Chenle was seated beside him, he would have smacked that pout away from the younger’s stupid face, but Jisung—the little shit that he is, took advantage of their distance and began making infuriatingly cute noises just for the elder to say that blasted statement in return.

And he did, eventually, because he was weak to Park Jisung even if the younger was the one who would often indulge in his selfish ploys. These hours were a secret to the world—to everyone but themselves, so Zhong Chenle supposed it was an appropriate time to uncover some truths that they would often conceal from all the rest.

“I miss you too. Now shut up and go to sleep, Jisung _pabo_.”

The younger laughed, careless and free—not even a bit afraid that their manager-hyung, _or worse_ , their actual hyungs would come and scold him for being awake at half-past four in the morning when they had schedules assigned later today.

Zhong Chenle was seconds away from running to their dorm and hitting the audacious spirit of this stupid, stupid boy when Park Jisung gave him one more look, locking their eyes despite the boundaries of the screen before them.

“My favorite character is Anna,”

“Who?” Chenle would ask to irritate the boy before him, but the power this boy held during this time of day brushed off his question ever so quick—left forgotten in the depths of oblivion. He continued his audacity, proclaiming to the world,

“But you’ll always be my favorite—across every universe, you’ll always be mine.”

If Zhong Chenle thought his cheeks couldn’t grow anymore hotter, he was greatly wrong, for now, he knew that even up to the tips of his ears—he was flustered and at a lost for words after this boy’s untimely daring. He looked away once again, unable to find anything of interest because of the professions this boy would dare confess before the heavens.

Before he could respond, Park Jisung failed to stifle a yawn, and with a drowsy grin, weak but still capable enough to cause an unruly churning in every inch of the elder’s being, he bid his good night, leaving Chenle to still the lingering heat rising high on both his cheeks.

The ringing of birdsongs roused him from his reverie, uncertain of the dreams that came rushing through his line of thinking. One thing he knew for certain was to try and stop himself from answering Park Jisung’s calls of warmth, for the boy was cruel.

Stupid and cruel—a fool in the form of a ruthless giant, incapable of ascertaining the depths of his strength. 

Before returning back to sleep, however, Chenle spied an update on Park Jisung’s LYSN account.

> [ _[ … ] I want to [ say ] 100 [ more things ] but I shouldn’t [ … ]_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1207325722412367873?s=20)

Without another beat, he sent him a message—ever so clear and present unlike the infuriatingly subtle intimacies that this stupid, stupid boy would often give him.

_Tell me when I’m wide awake, Jisung pabo. Now go to sleep!_

Zhong Chenle tossed his phone away before he could see the younger’s reply, his frustrations ever so clear _but they have time_. 

And in time, he longed for the day when Park Jisung would speak of truths and not just follies and fibs that would drift him off to a land of dreams. No longer would there be empty words that the younger would often mutter near his ear. No longer would there be late-night riddles, backstage whispers, and expected services to satisfy the demands of the public— _no_. With the morning sunshine dawning upon a tomorrow that would never end, Chenle would hear these secrets—loud and clear with both their eyes meeting and their fingers knitted together for all time.

For now, however, he would eye the far-off luster of the rising dawn and would smother himself further into the warmth of his blankets before his day begun.


	2. yesterday is history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3bj9Xp7wfRKfkY5JsVtIM9?si=DtRBzLVmTQiwRU0wJA0-Cg) i used while writing
> 
> this chapter was / kinda / fun to write seeing as im just tossing n tossing words hoping it would make sense lol

> [_Now I wont change (status message) it again ㅋㅋㅋ bye (I just saw a mosquito. Wait a bit! I am gonna fight it)_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1204412738090328065?s=20)

“There was a mosquito in the living room last night,” Park Jisung greeted upon arriving at their practice room, with the younger boy barely giving him the time to breathe, particularly with whatever this idiot has proclaimed for all the world to see.

They filmed for the first anniversary of _Chenji’s This and That_ yesterday evening and to say that Park Jisung wasn’t the very fool that would cause all of his downfalls was, indeed, an understatement. The boy was getting bolder, for his coquettish whispers would no longer lay behind the hidden and the dark.

 _And it scared the living fuck out of Zhong Chenle_.

It especially didn’t help that their company is too engrossed in profiting off the content they produce, leaving Zhong Chenle’s heartbeats to race so much faster than what was deemed normal. Masked with the dim lighting of which shadows appear to whisper the secrets of his soul, they sat face to face. Before him was this foolish, foolish giant with a heart as big as every other part of him, and Chenle could only still himself from ruining such a momentous occasion of their channel lasting an entire year (and running). And in this industry, that most certainly counted as a win.

Despite his efforts in settling the rushes that continued to riot over every bit of his inner regions—where thunderous trembles would come and force his body to grow more unsteady than it already does, Park Jisung thought that this would be an excellent hour to voice whatever affection he has for the elder in a frustratingly delicate and restful manner that even Zhong Chenle couldn’t utter his complaints, especially when it fits the air perfectly.

“I can’t forget the moment I saw you for the first time,” the younger would begin his reminiscing which was odd for he remembers the most peculiar things when he can barely recall where he has placed most of his things. 

[ Their Jaemin-hyung, a lost boy too in Chenle’s good opinion but caring and selfless to a fault, was the one who would locate every scattered treasure that their youngest would deem worthy. ]

Thus, here he sat, telling tales from their first encounter as if he was a romantic hero professing their fondness towards the person who has made their world every bit more hopeful—a daze filled with promises and pleasure. The elder wanted to shut him up, of course, because he truly was far to close from professing all of his secrets onto the world, but the boy met his gaze, with the familiar warmth transpiring from his being and with a smile, he added, “Look how far we’ve come.”

Thus, Zhong Chenle could only sigh in an attempt to cover the giddiness ever so present within and smiled at the fool sitting in front of him. The boy, however, didn’t stop voicing out his empty triflings that would never fail to set Chenle's poor, poor heart into a rampage. Butterflies wouldn’t just flutter into it— _no_ , but an entire collision of stars would take place. Particles of celestial bodies floating across the domain of the elder’s body would form new wonders as the boy with the presence of an afternoon downpour—soothing to all the riots Chenle had kept hidden from years and years of practice—would smile at him.

And Chenle could only sit there in defeat.

[ Not that he was winning in the first place. ]

The fact that this idiot had the audacity to look flustered, when here sat Zhong Chenle, trying his hardest to still the turmoil in his heart as he read the younger’s message, was a laugh.

“I didn’t want to let you know.”

 _Then why did you write it in the first place, Jisung pabo?_ he wanted to scream, but with his every grip, he kept his composure and continued despite the thunderings that kept on ringing in his ear and the flush that was so, so close in coloring his cheeks the brightest shade of pink.

“Do you know the answer?” Chenle returned after giving up in guessing the correct number of episodes that they have filmed. Park Jisung, ever the most infuriating person to ever walk the earth, gave him a knowing smirk in response and Chenle knew he opened another opportunity for this little shit to be the flirtatious creature that he is.

“Of course I do, I’m interested in _you_.”

Oh, how he wanted to wipe that smirk off that stupid boy’s face, but they were still filming so Chenle could only smother his inevitable rushes to hit the boy for his maddening habits of driving him to the brink of insanity.

They began reminiscing about their trip in Shanghai and Chenle was this close to losing it, for the entirety of those two days, Park Jisung took the liberty to be so unrestrained. He clung to him—the only thing familiar in a foreign country with its unfamiliar customs and language, he whispered more daring confessions even with the sun shining brightly before them, and he just kept being this stupid, stupid boy who was mindless in tearing Chenle’s heart to shreds that the elder had to take matters into his own hands and talk to Huang Renjun about these disruptive feelings—his very first time of voicing the truth that he _liked_ Park Jisung, of all the people in the entire world.

[ _“You hate it so much,” his Renjun-ge couldn’t help commenting, looking far too amused at the pout the younger Chinese was giving him._

_“Because he’s an idiot.”_

_“Aren’t you the bigger idiot though? Seeing as you’re the one in lo—”_

_“Shut up, ge.”_ ]

Now, this boy had the audacity to list the things that touched his heart from those two days away from their reality that Zhong Chenle could only grip his spoon tight to suppress the urge of doing something stupid to the foolish boy in front of him.

“I was the only one who had fun in the amusement park,” he couldn’t help remarking seeing as they only had two days, but Park Jisung spent an entire afternoon surrendering to his fears. The boy, however, held his gaze, looking far too brave for someone who couldn’t even ride a rollercoaster but Chenle supposed they all had unexpected moments of daring.

And Park Jisung’s instances never failed to induce a flutter to his poor, poor soul.

“I did my best and that’s good enough, right?” Chenle could spy all sparkles in his eyes as sincerity flows through every bit of his being. Forming another teasing, he gestured an impish grin and continued, “Besides… I had fun watching you.”

The elder threw the spoon onto the floor and hid his blush while he tried to make it seem like he was looking for the utensil he intentionally dropped.

Zhong Chenle was so irritated by the younger that he made himself more unreasonable as they came closer and closer to the end of the segment. He didn’t laugh at this stupid boy’s stupid jokes, he blew the candles purposely so there won’t be any more romantic connotations, and even teased Park Jisung to sing the _Yum Yum_ song only to stop midway, the lines “I am yours from now on,” left hushed and unnamed between his lips.

Even after all those attempts, however, the boy still managed to render him speechless. He stared right into his soul as if he knew about all the storms that would continually brew in the elder’s stomach just by the very thought of him, him, _him_.

“I think Chenle’s kingdom is more interesting than Frozen.” 

He spoke of it as if it was a comment he had read, but Chenle knew him through and through, _and it wasn’t_.

“My kingdom?”

“Yes. Chenle’s kingdom,” he repeated with his eyes bearing a fearful gravity as if he was a plotting spider watching and waiting for the elder to be caught in his web.

“What do I have in there?”

He should have known before he asked that another glitter would shine through the younger’s eyes—a being so capable of catching every cosmic delight with the wonders that flow through his heart. It had gotten to the point that even his smile appeared more comforting, more enthralling, and more warming than the first rays of the dawning sun.

As if the heavens itself existed just between them.

_“It’s here and now.”_

So it really wasn’t just an offhand comment.

The boy ran off again, though, changing the topic as quickly as it came that it _annoyed_ Chenle ever so greatly for he couldn’t just keep saying things like that— _on live broadcast especially_ —and assume that things would stay the same because it had been different for a long time now. Park Jisung was just a great enough fool to acknowledge the repercussions of his words and actions.

[ Or… Zhong Chenle was the bigger idiot to believe that it was… well… _something_. ]

Despite his growing frustrations from yesterday’s eventful afternoon, however, Chenle would scoff in amusement at the boy’s greeting—the two ever so ignorant at the knowing looks of their hyungs for one should never, _ever_ trust Huang Renjun with their secrets especially with the matters of the heart that would lie hidden and kept because this stupid, stupid boy was careless and foolish—a much greater threat than anything in the entire cosmos.

Nevertheless, he continued to be comforted by the colors of the afternoon drizzle, capable of making the world still and quiet. The younger’s familiar timbres would offer gentle quivers and shivers—thunderous, but soothing in spite of everything else.

[ _“I don’t understand, though,” he would confess to Renjun, as the two boys would stare at the skyline they have adopted as their home, “We’re complete opposites, but why does the mere thought of him make my heart go—I don't know! Insane? Crazy? Disastrous? He's Jisung! Jisung the pabo and yet...”_

_There was a pause before the eldest of the two could offer his thoughts, the breeze of the winter air biting and cutting to the feel of their skin, but the warmth of the deck kept them from freezing. Looking at his hyung, he couldn't help but feel a peculiar warmth shining through him as well._

_“I can’t say I know the secrets of the universe,” Huang Renjun returned, his eyes locked at the glimmering estates enveloping their orbit, but with a smile—unreadable and indistinct to Chenle’s great annoyance, he continued, “But I think he heard you sing and decided to sing along with your melodies.”_

_Before he could ask what it meant—what everything meant, his Renjun-ge turned to him, perfecting the glittering lights before them as he began to speak, ever so soft and tranquil, “The world is made for lovers, Chenle-ya. So to uncover its secrets, I suppose the only thing we can do is to let it in and see.”_ ]

Surrendering to what may come, Zhong Chenle entertained the younger's dilemma, even offering a thought that no one could answer in particular,

“How do mosquitos go inside if the windows are kept shut?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> renle's conversation occurred the year before this was set btw
> 
> your comments r my life thank u for such an encouraging welcome uwu
> 
> pls tell me what u think ;;;;;;


	3. the sunrise grows so near

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm changing the tags from light angst to angst now bc i need an outlet for my loneliness lmao
> 
> lmao catch those hurt/comfort fics as a replacement of the warmth that u cant receive irl
> 
> i listened to Emmit Fenn's [Yellow](https://open.spotify.com/track/1UtHIpEUBZofJg071tds2c) while writing but if u want to cry ( i honestly think it's nice to have a good cry once in a while ) listen to Oh Wonder's [Waste](https://open.spotify.com/track/3fOCHVP6W1uXr2kkZ1dzm0)
> 
> ( im honestly a little down so im just gon edit later yes i hope u understand 😊 )

> _[Indonesiaaaa ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1205725084758892544?s=20) _ [💚💚](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1205725084758892544?s=20)

With a steady beat, his eyes were suddenly wide open, spying the muted hues of the bustling city before him with the familiar flickering of city lights in a land foreign but welcoming just the same. Although he felt the ache of today’s performance flowing through his weary body, he greeted it with a warm sigh and stretched out his limbs from their soothing rest.

Zhong Chenle was tired after the event, with their schedule requiring them to rise before the breaking of dawn—off to a foreign land where the unfamiliar heat surrounding the air was very much reclaimed by the fiery spirits of their fans calling out their names. Upon reaching his room, he immediately settled in, never even minding who he had to share it with for the blankets were calling—their warmth and comfort ever so inviting and who was he to oppose? Thus, after a few hours of rest from the rising humidity of such a confined space of their venue, he was greeted with the soft breathing of his Jeno-hyung lying restfully in the bed next to his.

Rubbing his eyes, he laid back to the comforts of the bed and scrolled through his accounts only to find Park Jisung notifying the whole world of his wakefulness. Zhong Chenle rose as noiseless as he can and locked the door of the bathroom before calling the younger ever still awake at these ungodly hours of stupor.

“Park Jisung,” he greeted his best friend before the connection could even show Jisung’s face properly only to find the boy’s eyes all tiny and red as if he had been crying for hours and hours before. 

It wasn’t unusual to find Park Jisung all puffy and swollen for the boy was often ensnared with the most grating thoughts—bad thoughts that would often keep him from a much needed good night’s rest. What Zhong Chenle finds curious and strange, however, was the fact that Park Jisung is often riddled with giddiness and glee whenever they travel to a foreign country. But, here stood his best friend, all puffy-eyed and sad, the bags of weariness and fatigue ever so prominent under his eyes.

And what could a boy do but come to his aid, ready to wipe those tear tracks away from his stupid, stupid face?

“Where are you?” he stated in alarm, ever so ready to rush to the other boy’s side, but Park Jisung had the gall to fucking laugh despite his disposition—chuckling at the empty air before him.

“I just had a bad dream,” he would return with a weak grin as if Zhong Chenle couldn't spy the lacking sparks that would (often) never fail to appear in his eyes. So the elder merely stared, frowning at the lies Jisung were failing to force into him—ever the biggest idiot to walk off the face of the earth. Park Jisung would have offered a thousand subject changes, awkward and strained just like all the rest of him, but the younger just smiled—he just _smiled_ despite the puffiness that laid apparent in his eyes, despite the sadness that could be seen in just a mere glance—despite the heaviness that lingered even with the affections that Zhong Chenle was willing to offer causing him to lose his temper because a restful nap wasn't enough to put up with Park Jisung's foolishness.

“Why are you lying?”

His clenched fists and jaw were not enough to stifle his frustrations for the younger's attempts of deviation. But, he remembered his Jaemin-hyung waiting ever so patiently by the door and for the younger to finally open and allow his hyungs to bring solace and hope into his world, so he loosened his grip and breathed out his frustrations.

And with a whisper, he muttered, “I’m just here, Park Jisung.”

Locking their eyes, he could already spy the wonders forming in the younger’s, for Park Jisung didn’t only possess the power to forge marvels in Zhong Chenle’s entire heart and soul—he was a wonder himself, capable of shaping the birth and death of stars just by a mere look alone.

“Whenever you're ready, I’m here.”

He spied the corner of his best friend's eyes drawing out another set of salty tears. That very image made him recall a fairytale he had read years and years ago. All the tears that one would shed in their lifetime will be collected into a pool, but Zhong Chenle was certain Park Jisung's would have formed an entire sea already. Nevertheless, with a gentle beam, he sang familiar melodies of sleep for the younger boy to hear, breathing out his promise in a voice hushed and quiet. For whenever the younger ever finds himself needing a hand to swim through stretch after stretch of the salty sea filled with his very humanity, Zhong Chenle would fly over with an outstretched hand, ready to answer the call of the boy bearing every stellar body that captures the beauty of his soul.

When the boy had finally quieted into muted whimpers, his big, big hands covering the entirety of his stupid face, Zhong Chenle asked in a soft tone, “Can I come in?” and the boy only nodded in response.

The best thing about being favored by everyone around him was that he didn't particularly have any limitations, so when Park Jisung was sitting quietly, trying his hardest to stifle his tears—and failing miserably, Zhong Chenle rushed back into the room he shared with his hyung. He crept nearer and nearer to Lee Jeno’s sleeping figure before spying the elder’s phone and grabbing it without much thought because he was in a state of panic and he needed to be beside his foolish, foolish friend.

One thing about their peculiar relationship with one another was that they never really tried to hide anything from each other—of course, there were still plenty of things left unsaid, but Chenle knew each and every lock code of his hyungs’ phones.

[ Lee Jeno’s lock was simply his and Huang Renjun’s anniversary date—the romantic sap, and although he was quite bad at remembering dates, especially the commemoration of another person's fairytale ending, Zhong Chenle found it advantageous enough to remember it. Park Jisung with his silly, silly face being drowned by his tears, however, was tonight’s pressing matter. So although Chenle spotted their hyungs’ conversation containing an impressive exchange of hearts, he turned a blind eye and kept his mouth shut even if he was already planning his daily dose of teasing the elder Chinese with all his might. ]

Calling their manager and ignoring his irritated puffs, he acquired the number of the room Park Jisung shared with their Jaemin-hyung and rushed out as swiftly as the beat of his heart with the younger still trying his hardest to restrain the tears from falling—and still failing miserably.

Before him stood this foolish, foolish boy who was able to will the untimely somersaults all across the elder’s body and the warmth creeping through like a breeze in a weary afternoon, relieving every strain that comes through. Zhong Chenle didn’t miss a beat as he pulled the younger out of the room and led him up the stairs of the hotel. He was wondering after what seemed like the hundredth step, why he didn’t choose the elevator instead but the adrenaline that flows through his very being at the supposed hours of sleep pressed him to go further. And upon reaching the door, they were greeted with the glimmering estates of a place unknown to them, but secrets would be shared this evening as he faced the boy all puffy and red, and pulled his face closer to his.

“What’s wrong, Jisung-ssi? Why are you crying?”

The distance between their faces was almost nonexistent, their temples meeting far so close for the usual accounts of casual intimacy that if a slight push occurred, then their lips would meet as well but Zhong Chenle didn’t think about distances, uncertainties, or limitations because the boy who grew to mean the world to him still had tears falling down his cheeks and the clock was ticking.

“I told you… I just had a bad dream,” the younger replied weakly that Chenle wanted to scream at his nerve to lie—to _him_ of all people. Cupping the younger’s cheeks with his cold hands, he squeezed both of them in exasperation but eventually quieted into a gentle caress after he spied them all rosy and red.

“A bad daydream, you mean.”

Park Jisung refused to meet his eyes, only staring at the gleam of skyscrapers towering to reach the heavens. After a while, however, the boy released a defeated sigh and dropped the weight of his big, big head on the elder’s shoulder. 

And Zhong Chenle, ever so ready to answer the calls of this boy before him, wrapped his arms around the skinny figure of the younger and breathed in the warmth that continued to radiate despite the continual rushes of anxieties and self-condemnations.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Park Jisung whispered in his ear, with the heat of his breath moving far too close to the elder’s neck that it was sending tingles that made his skin crawl out of sensitivity and another peculiar feeling surfacing from underneath.

“Of course, how could you live without me?”

“Yes… I can't imagine a life without sunshine,”

“Am I that bright in your eyes?”

Park Jisung met his eyes, his long locks hindering the elder from fully seeing the sparkles reflecting but he knew they were there because Park Jisung exists and he was already a marvel just by merely existing. He did, however, still pushed them away and drank in the sight of every little wonder that he could spy. A few minutes of staring into nothing but the younger with the mysterious rarity that exists within him _and_ his stupid, stupid face, Zhong Chenle couldn't help feeling conscious of such intimacy—especially when he was the one who initiated the whole thing.

Thus, despite crying for hours and hours and hours, Park Jisung still won this round as he chuckled at the elder's restless fit. With a beam, ever so decorated with all the cosmic wonders of the universe, he spoke to the world,

“You are everything bright and warm, Zhong Chenle and I’m happy that I met you in this universe and all the others existing.”

Before the elder could respond, Park Jisung called for his hand and he answered, of course, seeing as he couldn't imagine doing anything else. 

They retreated back to their respective rooms where not a single word was uttered. Zhong Chenle couldn't help stilling the strain that continued to linger in his chest, as if branches continued to stretch across his ribs causing the boy to grow more and more breathless after each and every step. Before parting, however, Park Jisung further tightened his hold and pressed the lightest peck on the elder's temple, thanking him with a voice low and muted.

But all were heard.

Zhong Chenle traced the breaking of dawn, the colors stretching ever so far and beyond before he finally succumbed to sleep, the redness from such unrestrained intimacy still coating both his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday lol ;;;;;; pls tell me what u think ( only if u want to yes but still,,,,,,, please )


	4. longing is like a seed

> [.](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1206114711541993472?s=20%20\()
> 
> [🦋🦞](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1206156614123655168/photo/1)

Zhong Chenle made it certain that the boy was back to his usually curious and bright self before the elder would take a step back—counting one, two, three until fifty. Careful and calculating in the hopes that nobody would take notice of his intentions. It was fairly feasible seeing as he lived outside of their dorm, but his hyungs were quick to notice. With every minute expression that he would fail to conceal as he would pull himself further and further away from the grasp of the younger’s reach during practice; as he would eye the boy sprouting elevated tales of his fancies and daydreams, his eyes searching and searching—committing the sparkles to his memory; as he would remember himself and his goal of achieving distance, getting up quickly to his feet and parting with his members with a curt greeting—his hyungs had unfortunately caught everything.

Thus, it didn’t take long for someone to approach him.

Lee Jeno, everyone's frontrunner as Dream’s leader, confronted him during practice as the two sat by the kitchen island of the pantry, with the clanking of the spoons meeting the bowls as the only tunes in session.

“What's up with you and Jisungie?”

Besides their Mark-hyung, Lee Jeno was one of his favorites. The elder, apart from his extraordinary looks that appeared to be sculpted by the heavens above, was kind. 

Lee Jeno was kind, for although he has allergies, he adopted three cats and never failed to feed every stray that he meets, ever so ready with a big bag of treats. Lee Jeno was patient, for instead of kicking them out of his room, he would endure the loud shrieks and cusses of their members (particularly Park Jisung) as they hog his computer all day long, never even minding such a scene at the hours of dawn. Lee Jeno was sensitive for although he might not often show it, he had the tendency to breathe in the beauty of the world—particularly with the figure dressed as Huang Renjun; thus, he would often be seen scribbling down with his neat script. Secrets—all hushed and quiet but some would appear after a while and the rest of them would agree that Lee Jeno has a beautiful soul collectively.

Lee Jeno was also caring to a fault though, ever so grounded and certain of his loyalty carved in the shape of the other six stars known as Dream. Thus, Chenle knew that lying to his hyung would bring no benefit, especially with the huge possibility of his hyungs bugging and bugging and bugging him until he would speak of the plights of his heart and soul.

But he wasn’t ready.

He had spoken of partial truths to Huang Renjun. Although it was enough for the elder to fit every piece of the puzzle, there was still power over words left unsaid. Secrets unspoken to the air remained muted and illusive—their reality a mere effect of a passing daydream. So instead of lying to his hyung who could perfectly see through him without a hitch or trouble, he kept his mouth shut and continued to fill his mouth with a glass of milk sitting within his grasp. The forbearing spirit of Lee Jeno, however, showed no peeve from the younger’s lack of response. They sat there, wrapped in a comfortable silence until his hyung finished his cup of ramen. Before the elder left to join the others, he would state in a kind tone—enough to warm the pressing and freezing deluge of bad thoughts after bad thoughts after bad thoughts, “He’ll notice soon, Chenle-ya. He may be a fool, but he always notices.”

 _Especially when it comes to you_ , he could hear his hyung state even if it was left muted and undisclosed. Zhong Chenle only nodded in return, spying the remnants in his glass to avoid meeting his hyung’s eyes. And soon after, Park Jisung took notice of his desperate attempts of avoidance. An entirely unfair capability—for the younger to perceive each minute expression that exudes unfamiliarity and detachment and evasion all together, particularly due to being accustomed to Chenle's small displays of affection.

But he didn’t dare confront the elder’s actions, of course.

Instead, Park Jisung kept his distance. He patiently waited for Zhong Chenle’s eyes to finally meet his but it didn’t come anytime soon. The air was all muted and still without the maknaes’ constant ruckus. A discomforting silence seeing as Chenle’s excited squeals and giggles weren’t towards the youngest who would often make jokes—jokes so terrible and frustrating that the elder could only release an adorned chuckle in complete abandon. 

But not right now, unfortunately.

Although Zhong Chenle only wished to see the sparkles in the boy’s eyes, he just couldn’t force himself to look and meet those pressing delights at the moment seeing as he would fall further and further and further.

Especially when he couldn’t trust the words that would escape from Park Jisung.

Every time the boy would look at him—just by his very presence, sometimes even by just the thought of him alone—everything would go on a rampage. A collision after a collision after a collision that was just an ongoing sensation, heating the vitals inside his body, boiling to the point of eruption.

And he wasn’t entirely certain of what truths would escape after such outburst.

At the hour when he could be sharing another video call with his best friend, he spied the younger’s LYSN account and the only thing that could be seen was “.” It had been over a week since he decided to take a breather from Park Jisung’s… was it reasonable to call it suffocating? Smothering? Stifling? Especially when he knew that the boy wasn’t at fault for the clamorous ringings that echoed through his heart. He missed his stupid laugh, his gummy smile, his glittering eyes that consist of the very sparkles of the night’s sky. He missed him, he missed him, _he missed him_ , and he didn’t spare a moment’s hesitation for this hour was always reserved for the daring.

He only needed to wait for two rings before Park Jisung answered his call. Fresh out the shower, the boy’s wet fringe clung to his temple. The towel nestled across his shoulders were apparently drenched—the boy’s careless tossing ever so blatant, but his eyes were sparkling so bright, and for Zhong Chenle’s insides burning, tingling, and aching in full surrender, that was the only thing that mattered tonight.

“Is this a bad time?” he found himself speaking despite his parched throat, his nervousness out and exposed, but the younger only tossed a careless smile—unaware of the chaos that it would affect in Chenle’s cheeks, stomach, and heart. Everything was fluttering and surging, the discordance of two impossible realities. Butterflies soaring out to the gardens, to the roots stretching across the cages of his body and the clash of the celestial bodies that his mother believed were the foundations of his soul.

“It’s never a bad time with you.”

Breathing in and out after finding himself at a loss from the very beam of this stupid, stupid boy, he scoffed with his eyes rolling in surrendered adoration. Finally meeting the eyes of the boy after days and days of distance, he breathed them in—breathed _him_ in, capturing the wonder that glimmered through his phone screen.

There was silence at first, for the boy was ever so careful whenever it comes to him as if he was a porcelain doll, too fragile to the heat of his touch when it was all he longed for in familiarity, comfort, and all the other effects of warmth. Zhong Chenle recalled the time when he didn’t have to think of the circumstances of his touch which was selfish of him, of course, seeing as the boy would often flinch but never retreat it would seem. Park Jisung would answer his call, but it was always him to ensure such closing in between. Often it would be airy and delicate, careful for any trace of lingering.

Ever so careful, but was he even looking though?

If he just _looked_ , he would catch the boy watching—longing for such touch to trespass further and further into his heart and soul, but he didn’t and it was fortunate too, seeing as he didn’t entirely know what he'd do if such a situation would occur. Thus, concealing every trace and every print of his feelings for this stupid, stupid boy, he tucked the inner trimmings of all of his selfishness and conceit and apologized to the boy before him.

“I’m sorry for being… weird these past few days.”

“I understand, don’t worry,” Park Jisung returned without another beat. After such haste, however, he appeared to want to press for more answers but was scared to do so, of course. Typical Park Jisung behavior, it would seem.

“What is it?”

The boy stirred his gaze away from the elder, fumbling through the damp trace of his hair as he fixed the patch near his ear. With an even breath, he returned to meet Chenle’s eyes and asked, “Did I do something wrong?”

A surge coursed through, falling and crashing through the towers that Chenle had hidden and kept deep, deep down beneath. Through the rubble, an endless list of questions emerged, hoping for any kind of clarification. Despite an opening, Chenle didn't allow anything to escape from their confines, locked and kept as were the secrets of his heart.

“It’s just me being stupid, so no. I’m sorry for worrying you, I—” he tried to explain, but the burdens of a persistent list of ruins attempted to escape, whispers of temptation urging him to give in and expose himself to the boy before him. Thus, he took another heavy breath before continuing, his composure settled in once again, “It's just me being stupid, I swear. It's… it doesn't really—”

Park Jisung stared at him with a smile on his face, watching and waiting for his words to be rendered and spoken which was unfair because the boy had the habit of speaking out his thoughts—thoughtlessly cutting out the words of his hyungs. But here he stood at the other side of the call just waiting and waiting and waiting with a gummy grin and arched eyes that possessed all the wonders of warmth and beauty and—

Zhong Chenle squeezed his eyes shut, finding himself at a loss of breath once again. He was certain that the boy was still watching, was still waiting for his words to come across, so he gathered his thoughts carefully, and in another breath he spoke, “I’m sorry” once more.

Just as expected, he was met by his warmth—it's the warmth emanating the cheer he had sorely missed for the week that had passed. It's the warmth that accompanied him through the years in the land foreign in his ear. It's the warmth that possesses genuity and valor with the boy colored by the stars in the night sky. It was the warmth of Park Jisung, and Park Jisung alone, and no other selfish ploys and feelings would hinder him from holding such warmth within his grasp. Thus, pushing out all of his worries back into the cupboard of his mind, he returned a smile of his own—more real and pure than it could ever be these past few days.

“How was your day?”

He spied the sparkles first before anything else. The birth of stars in the making, crafted in all wonder and awe just by the very shape of his eyes alone. He had missed the elevated whispers of the boy whose voice still cracked more often than not, its low registry a lullaby to his ears. It felt like the tempest brewing as well, seeing as Chenle found himself gripping his pillow tight, expecting for another spoken decree to come and drip like melting honey. It would cause his body to grow still, his cheeks to turn pink, and his heart to start aching more than it did before—

And he was scared.

He made a promise to himself, however, that the empty words that Park Jisung, the absolute fool, would continually utter would never come through. He would never allow them to swallow him whole and eventually drown him to his undoing. Thus, this marked the start of his mission to stop these illusions and daydreams to beguile him into the sweetest trap, but he still found himself stumbling though—always the biggest fool whenever it involves Park Jisung.

“Jaemin-hyung found a greenhouse restaurant—a greenhouse is a place where you can store plants even in winter, by the way. It just opened yesterday,” the boy would start, unaware of the ringings he could affect to the poor, poor heart of Zhong Chenle.

 _Not that it's his fault though_ , he couldn't help thinking, so he decided to lose his daze to the glitters of the boy’s gaze.

“So we went there today and it's just—it's so pretty to see flowers blooming even if it's cold out. It's magic in its own, I suppose. Just imagine how pretty it'd be when it snows this year! Anyway, he bought me lobster tails because I asked for it and suddenly—a butterfly came and sat on my head. Surprisingly, I didn't panic enough to mess up the table, but it still scared me though. Jaemin-hyung told me not to panic and even took a picture of me. It was so… well, I don't really know how I felt but it's just… well…”

“What is it?”

The boy bore his gaze, deeper than Zhong Chenle could ever withstand. The elder stood his ground, however, even with his cheeks turning the brightest shade of pink, even with his heart being pierced just by this stupid, stupid boy’s stare alone, and even with the thoughts that continually clouded his good sense and judgment, he met his stare, but he failed anyway because this was Park Jisung and just as idiots couldn’t catch colds in whatever season, idiots stayed winning because of their lack of better sense.

“Jaemin-hyung told me that butterflies symbolize good luck. I… I don’t really need any more luck in the world because, well… I have you, don’t I?”

And with that, he felt the earth shake the foundations he had built. His grip on the sheets felt tighter and tighter, but it wasn’t enough to contain the spirits that came to meet the tempest of his mind, body, soul— _heart_. He kept his mouth shut, however, for it was a danger to start sprouting tales at this hour, especially when it could contain the secrets he had hidden so well and carefully. He did find the strength to utter an exasperated sigh, adorned with all the affections he held for this stupid boy before him.

“Idiot.”

“I try my best,” Park Jisung returned so insolently and gestured another winning beam before the calls of sleep eventually lured them to a close. But of course, not before breathing out a hushed farewell, “Goodnight, Lele.”

The shivers ran through, gripping every nook, every cranny, and every crevice that they could overrule. He felt the roots sprouting the tiniest of buds, tiny but it would eventually blossom into more suffocating splendors—the roots of his deepest fears creeping and creeping, and he found himself powerless to the growth of this craving. Staring at the shadows lurking and whispering tales of deceit, he squeezed his eyes shut once more and attempted to mute all the persistent lingers that slithered through every inch of his skin. He was certain more would come and tempt him out to the calls of this longing and he feared for how long his brink of control could withhold. But for now, just as the stupid, stupid boy had wished for him, he turned and succumbed to the calls of stupor, wishing for the peaceful and dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reason for such a long chapter update : i honestly had no idea how to write this chapter so i hope u enjoyed it nonetheless ;-;
> 
> i swear this isn't a hanahaki disease au,,,,,,,


	5. a word dropped careless on a page

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was late to realize that this [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3bj9Xp7wfRKfkY5JsVtIM9?si=xYSuZ9ekTWWequ-HlA0aQA) was not public im sorry lol but try it with a playlist if u want ^.^
> 
> with all my love !!

> [_Really? Heol?_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1206445888580640770?s=20)

In all honesty, he already expected that there would be a surprise celebration the moment the 2019 ISAC sportscasters declared them as the champions of the male category in Archery. His hyungs had won gold medals often even with their languid spirits before and after their sets, but it was always a big deal when Dream was involved, especially when they were—and continued to be—the babies of their ever-growing group.

“My babies are all grown up!” their Doyoung-hyungie would claim, greeting them three into his tight hold. His air smelled fresh and his skin felt warm, so Zhong Chenle breathed in his trace and succumbed to the calls of warmth. Their hyung surprised them at the entrance of their dormitory and in a swift movement, the elder slid a sleep mask on Lee Jeno before he could even release a shriek in response. Before Chenle could offer a response on his own, an eye mask was placed, barring his own vision from the world. What surprised him the most was the warmth of someone's lips against his skin, and like honey, Lee Donghyuck giggled through his ear and grabbed his hand, leading him up to the familiar path of the Dream dormitory.

“I know you're tired, but we just have to celebrate your hard work. Archery isn't easy, especially for first-timers, but you did so well and even won first place! I’m really so proud of you, my babies,” he could hear his Doyoung-hyung state as he met the fast pace of his enthusiastic Haechan-hyung, cooing at him as he pulled him to a close.

When he felt them slowing down and finally reaching the door of their dorm, Lee Donghyuck gave him another squeeze with all of his warmth and comfort felt and heard. His excitement ever so apparent from how tightly he held on to the younger’s skin. In another swift movement, he was led inside and before he could hear the surprised tone of his Jeno-hyung, he felt the trace of a familiar heat coursing through his fringe. 

He could hear his smile before anything else.

Everything—from the growing clamor of their hyungs’ excitement, from the weary but hearty laugh of Na Jaemin caused by the unmistakable playful sounds of puckered lips, from the teasing noises directed towards Jeno and Renjun— _everything_ felt muted in his ears. He tried to prepare himself from what's to come, from what Park Jisung would try to initiate, but the very thought of this foolish, foolish boy standing before him and giving out the warmest of beams even if he has yet to see a thing sent tremor after tremor after tremor—the ringing echoing throughout every inch of his skin as he captured the warmth of the boy whose smile speaks and heart sings.

The pins and the needles grew apparent at every lingering trace the younger’s heat would brush that when Zhong Chenle’s eyes were finally free from the binds. The first thing he saw to no one’s surprise was Park Jisung standing before him and delivering the brightest of his delights with his eyes arched and sparkling, and his smile gummy and true.

“My champion,” the younger spoke in a whisper, his pride evident and clear as glitters would cast through his stare upon the elder. He looked at him in amazement, as if Zhong Chenle had the power to break the dawn or to stop the falling of a star, and he could only take a breath because he found it suffocating—definitely suffocating to further bore his eyes upon the wonder before him.

The moment broke when he was pulled into a tight hug by his Mark-hyung and honestly? He couldn't be more thankful for his hyungs’ disregard of the atmosphere between them. He was, however, pressed against Park Jisung and that didn't heal the quivers that began to shake as soon as he heard the younger's smile the second he walked into the room. There was a thundering, and although he could easily guise it as a sensation that was caused by the thrill and exhilaration of winning, he quickly pulled himself out of the grasp and clamor. He remembered to smile, however, and genuinely offered his gratitude for his hyungs’ excitement. The chorus of their carefree giggles and enthused acclaims were a lullaby to Zhong Chenle's restless state, so when they eventually grew more quiet and tranquil (at best) after eating the cake they bought just for this sole occasion, he couldn’t help his eyes dropping further and further to the calls of slumber.

“The baby is sleepy,” he could hear his Johnny-hyung comment, hushed giggles escaping with ever so apparent coos and before he could register anything from happening, his Kun-ge had brushed his cheek ever so lightly and calm, and offered to lead him to a vacant bedroom.

“ _He can take my room, ge_ ,” Huang Renjun stated without another beat as he helped his boyfriend rise from the sofa. Lee Jeno had snuggled into the arms of his favorite hyung after a hefty slice of cake, and with the whispered lullabies in his ear and the sweet caresses of familiarity, he eventually dozed into his sweetest dreams until he was now led to his room by the ever so determined Huang Renjun. His Jaemin-hyung had immediately excused himself after eating a bite of his slice, promising his return only to be found restful and sleeping in the comforts of his own room. Jung Jaehyun had carefully wrapped him properly with the warmth of his comforter to prevent the biting and piercing chills of the night after seeing him in such a state and bet on who was the last to stand between the two that remained.

Chenle won, of course, seeing as Lee Jeno was already found snoozing a short while after, but before he could earn whatever prize his hyungs had set, he easily allowed himself to be led to the solace of a warm and cozy bed. The heat of his Kun-ge felt different from Park Jisung, but he held on to it especially when it was the very warmth that surrounded him—a forest of ever ringing comfort from the untimely rushes of homesickness and seclusion.

_“You okay?”_

_“I am now.”_

His Kun-ge breathed out a captivated smile—another differing sensation from one particular boy, but the warmth was there nevertheless. Brushing his hair in such delicacy and careful attendance, Qian Kun pressed the lightest of kisses on the boy’s temple and wished him the sweetest of dreams.

Without another beat, the boy answered the calls of sleep.

It felt like a second, however, before he heard the rustling of sheets so near within his reach. He wasn't usually one to wake up at the slightest rise of action, often sleeping through his alarms in the morning—a dangerous habit he was in the process of fixing, Right now, however, the need to stir awake at this hour shook his consciousness and with the next tick of the clock hand, he rose from his sleep.

He spied two eyes, their glint dancing along with the candlelight as if they were the very twinkles in the night's sky. They grew rounder, however, stroke dumb and shell-shocked from probably causing the elder to his wake. Park Jisung rushed to the side of the bed, trying to reach for Chenle's hands but settled to grip the sheets instead.

“Did I wake you? I’m so sorry, I didn't mean to make too much noise. You must be tired too! I’m sorry, Chenle-ya,” Park Jisung stated in a swift and fractic hurry, mumbling words that appeared almost incomprehensible to Chenle's understanding but five years of close familiarity had helped him grow accustomed to the mutters that escape from the younger’s lips. Thus, he ceased the boy from his self-rebukes by asking why he was sitting on the floor of their hyung’s room.

“The hyungs were too la—I mean tired! They were too tired to go home, so some of them are going to sleep in the living room instead. I’d stay with them, but it honestly looked too crowded for me, so Kun-hyung suggested to stay with you instead. He did warn me to be quiet, though. I tried my best, I swear!”

“No, I—” Zhong Chenle tried to explain, and before he was able to discern whether it was acceptable to expose the secrets of his soul, his listless state flew its contents like a spring breaking from its icy cage, “It felt right—that I’m awake right now… It felt right.”

“What's that mean?”

Zhong Chenle wasn't entirely certain on how to explain his current disposition—how the accuracy in timing appears to dwell in deep like a birdsong calling them out of their sweetest dreams. The hour was late, with dawn looking far too unreachable from their orbits. _Witching hour_ , some would state—a period where unexplainable truths beyond the forces of nature and logic appear to come alive and kicking with magic dwelling amidst their beings, so Chenle decided for the secrets to remain obscure, not entirely of defeat but for the much-needed peace.

“I’m not really sure,” he would return in a daze with his words almost slurred that it was a wonder his brain could still process Korean right off this minute, “I’ll tell you when I figure it out.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

He rubbed his eyes to offer him a clearer sight of the boy before him, and to his surprise, Park Jisung—the ever so bold and daring Park Jisung at the hours hidden and kept reached for his hands and drew it away from his face, caressing the bitten folds of his fingertips with his frosty touch piercing to the feel of his skin.

“You're biting your nails again—” the younger would start but before he could further press his worries, Zhong Chenle's unease hushed all of his everything as he cupped his face and pulled him close—far too close than both of them could take. He cared less for such distance closing in between and more of his worries that even when he could _feel_ the heat of the younger’s breath, he didn't dare loosen the grasp until Park Jisung's only option was to answer his call and be hauled to the comforts of the bed.

“Your skin is cold.”

And without giving him the time to respond, Chenle drew the covers closer to his hold and pulled the younger into the warmth of the Moomin-printed quilt that belonged to their Renjun-hyung. The bed was too narrow for two grown boys, but the company was welcomed especially with the growing nippiness of the approaching winter chill.

“It's fine—I… I can stay on the floor. It's fine, Chenle-ya.”

“It's better here, so stop being stupid and go to sleep.”

Hidden under the blankets laid the meeting of two teenagers at the heart of the night where shadows loomed and secrets escaped the confines of control. Their faces were close—far, far too close that Chenle could just breathe him in, drawing him closer and closer, but he stopped as he remembered the younger’s growing discomfort.

“What time is it?”

“About… three in the morning, I think?”

“You’re just off to sleep now?”

There was a pause before the younger could respond, and although the shade of the covers was masking their only source of light, he didn't need it to see the boy fumbling and searching for words in response.

“I was waiting for the hyungs to go, but… well, they started asking why I wasn't in bed yet. I love their concern, of course—nerve-wracking and chaotic all together, but it was nice to see them all in the same room. Anyway, I—”

He suddenly cut off his train of thought. Knowing Park Jisung, he was probably thinking of a better way to explain in consideration of Chenle’s limited vocabulary, but he didn't continue after a few minutes of silence. Thus, finding himself far too exhausted to further urge the boy to complete his explanation, he settled in delivering an affirmative tone of understanding.

Before Park Jisung shook the foundations once more, of course.

“I’m proud of you, by the way.”

That particular thought roused him from his drowsy state, especially when he laid side by side with the boy who could set the thundering tempest that would shake the footings of his every masked quandary. This hour, he knew, was not safe for the vulnerability of drowsiness and sleep.

“I didn't do much… It was Jeno-hyung who won us the medal—”

“I like you.”

That very thought was enough to rouse him from the comforts of the sheets. His sudden bolt made the younger jump from his pose as well that it almost caused him to fall out of the bed, but Zhong Chenle was quick to catch him, drawing him steadily as their eyes met in a swift hurry.

“I—I meant I liked you best! Out of all three sets… I like yours best.”

Zhong Chenle decided to ignore the tremor that began to set, twinges and tingles simultaneously tearing his insides apart as the roots grew deeper and deeper, buds growing and starting to smother his ribs. He should have known that this stupid, stupid boy would twist his words enough to garner the remains of his false hopes, but he wouldn't let this grow and win over his better judgment. Pipe dreams were a fool’s gateway to their demise, and he wasn't a fool.

He truly wasn't.

Thus, he laid his body back into its much-needed rest, and released a muted sigh before he stated, “Jeno-hyung should be the one you like best.”

“I… I don't think that's how that works, so… no. Seriously, I like your set best. Do you wanna know why?”

He probably shouldn't give him the opportunity to win him over with his stupid and empty words, but… he supposed being a fool at the darkest hours of the night doesn’t particularly count with the conditions he had set for himself.

“Why?”

Much like the words that would escape from this idiot’s lips.

“Because you were brave. You didn't stop and wait—”

“How is this a compliment?”

“No, but seriously! It was so cool that you just straight on went for the goal. You might mess up at first—to be honest though, I think 8 still counts as a win—but you just faced it head-on with so much confidence and that's just… It was so cool, Chenle-ya!”

He gained the strength to turn his head and meet the eyes of the boy sitting at the corner of the bed. He often wondered how a boy so tall would often look so small like a flower waiting to be plucked and fixed in one's pocket. Park Jisung was a mystery—that much was a certainty, for although his heart was always bare and open, exposed to anyone willing to listen, he was still consisted of all sorts of puzzles and riddles. Contrary to popular belief, the secrets of the soul didn't need to be discovered, no. They were to be experienced, rather, through the beauty and the wonder of the boy before him.

“You’re just so… _amazing_.”

Zhong Chenle had always been surrounded by the ever-growing showers of love and adoration. Countless compliments were given, especially when he began to explore the world of music and entertainment. He would often hear the lines _genius_ , _prodigy_ , _the very voice of an angel_ , but after all that exposure—

It certainly didn't compare to this.

He never felt more seen than meeting the eyes of one foolish boy named Park Jisung. His eyes glittered in wonder, lost in idealistic and fanciful daydreams, but the warmth lingered and lingered and lingered, for the boy truly had a beautiful soul altogether. He was quick to notice, quick to act—quick to consider another person’s wishes before himself and that sincerity would dig through the crevices of anyone he would meet as the roots of his warmth would creep deeper and deeper until they bore the flowers of his being.

Zhong Chenle, however, could only return a weary beam—true and certain, but the fear lingered still as he grasped the sheets tighter to his fists. He spied the print of the quilt, surveying the peculiar shape of his hyung’s favorite cartoon character and released the sigh he was holding for the better part of the hour.

“Blow out the candle, Jisung-ssi.”

With the darkness looming and shadows creeping out as he kept his eyes wide and open, he finally drew them to a close and tried to ignore the heat of the boy who grew to mean the world. However, before he succumbed to the calls of slumber, he allowed himself to breathe out another secret that wished to escape from his chest.

“Thank you, by the way. I… I’m glad I was able to move someone, even if it was just a small win.”

Park Jisung responded by reaching for his hand that appeared lost within the blankets. He found it shortly after and easily intertwined it with his, like their souls connecting during the hours lost and theirs alone.

“You’re not one to say the depths of your mark, Chenle-ya. Especially when it's from another person's heart.”

He resisted in further pressing whatever that meant—whatever everything meant and eventually won in the end, for his hand was knitted with this foolish, foolish boy. This boy who was scared, ever so frightfully scared of the world, but he continued to grow nevertheless—blossoming the delights and the wonders of his heart and soul.

And Chenle deemed that that was all that mattered in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw jisung lit the scented candle bc he's a curious bean n also to help him sleep ( i shouldve included the smell lmao i'll add it in a few ) it's a habit i do sometimes but it's gotten too hot recently so ;;
> 
> im not entirely sure if i like this chapter tho ;;;;;;;; pls tell me what u think ;;;;;;;


	6. read, sweet, till we are less afraid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to this [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/6mbCABWxCDBrUNbiZa3pb0?si=dOkPXV6HRB2_pT8R4FVgbA) a lot while writing this ;;
> 
> ( i just realized the lyrics of _someone that loves you_ just now and i thought maybe it won't fit ? but then if u think about it,, it's kind of suitable too seeing as chenle has this notion that jisung is only in love with the idea of love,, so lol idk i just really like this song so i used it while writing lol )
> 
> altho i do suggest listening to [HYUKOH's TOMBOY](https://open.spotify.com/track/6DywghQdi3HQwC8eZkEkfa?si=k6hJJwnNRHClsZq18I44Hg) since it's the song jisung was singing on his lysn status ☺️ ( the taste of this boy is absolute perfection )

> [ _The young us we can’t see our tree rings / Our eyes are getting blind from the bright lights / Ouooo uooowowooo_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1206991209987629057/photo/1)

It wasn't a surprise for Chenle to deem Park Jisung as the biggest idiot in the entire world—universe even, but this particularly hit the mark especially when all this fool could do was to send the elder’s body into innumerable tumults and havocs with impossible realities existing just from the very words that would escape from his lips.

There was a broadcast for the promotions of their tour, with each of them being required to write a poem about the person they would pick from an eerie yellow box decorated so plainly but still affected a menacing bearing. He had always known that the universe was up to no good the very moment it decided to intertwine his life with this stupid, stupid boy who grew to mean the world, so he wasn't particularly surprised to see Park Jisung announcing his name to the group with the latter’s face beaming in a distinct excitement and cheer. 

It didn't help that their hyungs decided to take a more comical route with their poems conveying their individual takes on humor that Zhong Chenle could only laugh in amusement because they were entertaining and witty and a perfect fit to the person they were addressing, but upon reaching Park Jisung with his heart crafted in genuity and gold, the air became still. No discomforting stillness laid—no, but more on the warmth fixed—this overwhelming and sometimes suffocating warmth that the younger would continually emit was the cause of such gravity to occur.

What's worse was Park Jisung being so able and willing to confess the delusive secrets of his heart whenever it concerns _him_ especially.

“Title: The Sky and the Earth,” the boy began, looking far too thrilled at the wittiness of his title. Upon hearing it, of course, caused Chenle's poor heart to flip—where the secrets of _his_ heart began to overflow and surge through their confines, wrecking the bounds he had built as soon as he felt his heart tingle that night away from their dormitory months and months ago. He smelled the distinctive welcome of the salty sea first before anything else—all stretched out and beyond. The image of it reflecting the continual state of his heart was especially fitting, seeing as these uncharted and trackless waters would form torrid and tortuous tempests budding at unexpected and unreasonable hours—such as the presence of the boy matching the glitters of the night’s attendance. Nevertheless, even after all these storms, the calm rushes of the waters before and after the breaking of twilight and the falling of dusk, bearing all the colors of warmth, were worth such thrill in every crevice of his heart and soul especially when he had this boy standing beside him as time goes by. He could only resign and surrender as he breathed in the presence of the figure all dressed in wonder. He roused himself from the memory of his first time realizing that this was something _different_ —something that was beyond his control (not that he truly cared about such things to begin with for he was often at peace with his carefree nature, but when it comes to Park Jisung—it was a game changer sad to say). And before he could even stop himself, he cut off the mood in an instant with his voice sharp and cutting, “The title—”

Only to be silenced like a child by his hyungs.

He felt betrayed, of course, especially by Huang Renjun who had put together the bits and pieces of his thoughts and quandaries during the hours he found himself weakest—which, mind you, had only happened thrice but Renjun was a genius in uncovering such secrets. It was, of course, a stupid decision to put his trust on the boy known as the biggest gossip, but his hyungs (and him, if he was being honest) did live for the drama though. Be it a spectacle or a passing truth, they would come and watch it unfold with their eyes wide open and their ears ready to hear the whispers of one’s soul. Thus, in surrender, Zhong Chenle could only sit and listen.

Who would have thought, however, that the barriers between their languages would save the day for once?

Despite Park Jisung’s desperate attempts to explain his delivery, Chenle could only comprehend their title sequence for This and That, and that was about it. Lying came easily when he couldn’t make sense of the honeyed words—such deceiving words that would often cause every inch of his body to riot, so he gave him a suitable score enough to save him from punishment.

What he didn't expect, however, was Park Jisung pulling him inside of the hotel room he shared with Lee Donghyuck and leading him to an unoccupied seat as he fished for something in his pocket in a hurried and restless state. Before he could even ask what the boy was plotting, he was cut off by another familiar title—this time in Chinese with a distinct Korean accent. 

“ _Title: The sky, the earth, and all the stars in the universe…_ ” the boy began with a smile, all clumsy and gummy and so, so pretty which was especially unfair seeing as he wasn't aware of the effect he was stirring to the boy before him, “I’m keeping the first two lines in Korean, by the way, since it won't make sense in Chinese.”

Those were his final caution before he resumed in spurring the ever-present pins and needles that would course throughout the elder's skin as he began to recite his poem—the poem Chenle believed would be lost in translation, now uttered in the language of his home.

“ _[Look up, there’s you](https://twitter.com/xiguatouu/status/1259152250963968002?s=20)_ ,” he spoke, turning to gesture at the ceiling just like he had done a few days ago when he first recited his poem, then at Zhong Chenle whose hands were gripping the sides of the stool he was sitting on, spying the ever-present glitters that exist in the eyes of Park Jisung. The boy proceeded to point at the floor, then to himself, uttering, “ _Look down, there’s me_ …”

 _Heaven and earth_ they were labeled as a double entendre particularly caused by Park Jisung's uncontrollable urge to make stupid puns out of every word he would come across. Such a peculiar picture, this name would come off, for the elder knew that between the two of them, he was more grounded with his whims and fancies than the boy before him. The boy's constant state of musing was not due to language errors or their Jaemin-hyung’s need for his own space causing his thoughts to roam and search for a more breathable existence more often than not— _no_. Park Jisung just tended to wander off with his daydreams, flying up, up, and away without anyone capable of reaching him every so often that Zhong Chenle made it his duty to call him back into their world before he brooded over grim and perilous thoughts that could easily turn such fancies into nightmares instead.

Park Jisung was the dreamer of dreams—a boy so in tune with his feelings and ideals that he appeared far too unreachable from anyone’s call, but it seemed that he, along with their fans, picture an idyllic fantasy of a boy longing for a star high up in the heavens. Which was stupid, of course, for he only needed to look—to actually _look_ and he would see what a fool he was for simply dreaming about it.

Not that _he_ was the dream, of course.

“ _Let’s look up together at everything from now on and oversee everything…_ ” 

The very lines that failed to transpire before were all laid out for him to uncover and the pressing sting that slid through the chambers of his heart remained a constancy far too pressing for anyone—even him to push aside. What was this stupid, stupid boy proposing? For them to continue to discover the world together as teammates, friends, or something entirely _different_ altogether? What was it that laid behind the whispers of his heart? 

_What? What? WHAT?_

Chenle remembered himself, however. He remembered all the resolutions he held dear, and with that promise, he would never allow the fool in him to lure him out of his rationality. But Park Jisung, the biggest fool in the entire cosmos, was making it harder for him to sit still and remain in tune with reality. He was calling out to him like a lost boy inviting him to fly out to a land of never as he stupidly tried to imply for them to grow together—a boy, stuck with his delusions of grandeur and ever so afraid of growing up, asking for him to discover the world together.

_How about discovering it yourself first, Park Jisung, and see that I’m more than just a replacement of your whims and daydreams?_

Despite the consistent gnawing that appeared more and more wounding after each and every familiar syllable that escaped from the younger’s lips with his tone low, honeyed, and warm—the perfect recipe for a delusional fancy, he still felt his cheeks grow hotter and hotter after each and every passing minute. The heat of the boy’s sweet nothings broke in unwelcomed, remaining stubborn and obstinate enough to disrupt the usually peaceful state of Zhong Chenle’s headspace. Park Jisung even dared to meet his eyes as if he was expecting some kind of reply—a sign of acknowledgment that he was being heard, but the elder didn't allow him to triumph over that too.

Still, the boy remained smiling despite the lack of response as if he knew of the tumults that were currently happening all throughout Chenle's mind and body. The chaos was ever so rampant that he couldn’t even properly describe the occurrence of the different plights of his soul. What he was certain, however, was that the boy was talking to him using the language of his home—the boy who grew to mean the world building bridges, such dangerous bridges that could deliver the secrets that would eventually lure him up from the ground and into the world of never where follies and fibs continued to steer them away from the truth.

And that was just cruel.

“ _Because of you, the sky is never dark anymore…_ ”

Park Jisung was so cruel.

“ _Although it can be a little noisy sometimes_ ,” the boy finished, looking entirely proud of his efforts to convey the words once lost now knitted into a string which was, for once, not strayed behind the barriers of speech. His delivery was clumsy with a lot of syllables mispronounced but the intention was carried even so—all loud and clear for Chenle's liking, but it wasn't a choice he could win. The question that rang through Chenle's mind, whoever, was _Why?_

The younger spoke before he could even gesture anything in response, tracing the edges of his phone between his big, big hands, “I just—well… I just wanted to help you understand since you didn’t at first.”

Again, the thought _Why? Why? WHY?_ ran wild, but nothing escaped from his lips, for this was—without a doubt—one of the best gifts he had ever received. Thus, Zhong Chenle could only grip his clasp on the sides of the stool tighter than before, muttering a part of his soul just loud enough for this stupid boy to discern, 

“ _Thank you_ …”

As if the heavens shifted, the air became warm. No suffocating heat nor uninvited presence occurred unlike every other time the younger disclosed a secret that left Chenle to cling for his dear life and save himself from further falling and falling into an unspeakable limbo. Park Jisung met him with his eyes arched in uncontained adoration and his smile gummy and true—reflecting the affections he had long held dear. This was an intimacy he didn't expect to take shape, for although the younger was enthused enough to learn and acquaint himself with the Chinese language after being in close contact with both him and Renjun, he had only tried to utter a few terms and phrases, often to help his introductory messages to their foreign audience.

But this—

This was different altogether.

_This is lo—_

“ _You’re welcome_ ,” the younger returned, and he was grateful for such intrusion to come through before he could even finish his thought because this was scary—far too scary to uncover at the hour he found himself most vulnerable. The whispers of his soul were in a constant riot, but this was the first time for them to demand something that he couldn’t control that Zhong Chenle could only bite his tongue and stir his gaze away from the blinding spell of the wonder before him.

“I… I should head back… and, you know—sleep,” he could only return dumbly as he tried his hardest to refrain from banging his head on the desk, the wall, or whatever hard surface was the closest. Park Jisung was swift to his feet, however, standing up far too quickly that he appeared more awkwardly than ever. As the silence between them continued upon reaching the door of the room just across, the boy pulled the tip of Zhong Chenle's pinky finger and brushed the heat that continued to color their cheeks the brightest shade of pink.

“Goodnight, Chenle-ya.”

The universe, as he had always known and believed, was out to get him as soon as he entered the room and breathed in the distinct and tangy salted sea of a land foreign and tropical to what he was accustomed to. The heat traveled swiftly with the relatively high humidity striking and invading his sense of smell—worse of it all, it conjured the first time he realized his feelings for the boy who held all the wonders of the universe from his very eyes alone.

He was certain he wasn’t capable of escaping the truth anymore. Although he would very much like it buried and hidden from everyone, especially from himself, there was a ringing thought inside of him to let it out. To free it from the bounds, capturing the infinite and unbridled feeling of being alive like Renjun once said on his radio. It was foolish and rash that could result in losing everything just from the deepest whisper of his heart (not that Huang Renjun would know any better seeing as he was living a fairytale ending with Lee Jeno), but it was an option. He never really dwelled on things too much just like Park Jisung once muttered under the light of a candle that hinted the surround of a green forestry—its crisp and clean scent a different chilling sensation to his weary heart and body. Better to take the risk than to give in to fear, but with this boy… he couldn’t stop the qualms from overruling.

Not when it could be the ruin of their thwarted souls altogether.

Before considering all the everything, he supposed the guidance of his hyungs could help free him from such distresses. He would pose it as an innocent question—sudden and startling, but he always had the power over his hyungs. Thus, as he breathed in the saltiness of the sea with his gaze fixed at the horizon—the sky the only acquainted reality in a land foreign and away from home, he pressed a number and started a call.

Before the voice of Lee Minhyung could even address his call, Zhong Chenle started,

“What's love to you, hyung?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just imagine that jisung used more advanced words in delivering his poem lol but idk tho,, i honestly think chenle really didn't understand what jisung is saying even with his attempt to explain it thus,, this ;;
> 
> please note that every italicize dialogue is spoken in chinese !! 
> 
> i really don't know why i associate jisung with water like,,,,,,,,, he's an air sign but i kinda picture him as a pisces ngl lol
> 
> im gon make it lighter tho,,,,,,,,,,, i feel like there's too much angst in this fic,,,,,, i didn't mean to istg lol


	7. he lived where dreams were sown

> _[All is found](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1206991209987629057/photo/1) _

“Before that thought, can I be confused for a slight second or two?” 

Zhong Chenle couldn’t help releasing a chuckle at his hyung’s response, so he easily gave him a moment of his much-needed confusion to occur.

“Sure, hyung.”

“Thanks—now… Chenle, what the fuck?”

He only thought of one thing the second he called Mark, hoping for the elder to answer—of which he rightfully did, of course, or Chenle would jestingly sulk at him until they’re back in Korea, and that was because of the boy’s warmth. He remembered Renjun and Haechan the most when he first entered the company. The former who, thankfully, shared his mother tongue—the closest he had to any remnants of home; and the latter, making it his duty to hearten the inevitable awkward rushes of unfamiliarity and unease, especially with a group of boys who hailed from different cultures altogether. Even if each of them had their own distinct strengths, it wasn’t much of a surprise to see Lee Minhyung stepping up from his own gangly set of stature and towering before them as one, true capable leader. Despite his usually fumbling deliveries, clumsy and bumbling, just like every other part of him which others often found endearing at best, Lee Minhyung stood out. He was a genius songwriter that even at the young age of fourteen, the company already saw potential in him. He was a wonder—an all-rounder that it wasn’t a surprise to see the boy make it for their first-ever unit debut. He worked incessantly hard that often resulted in Lee Donghyuck annoying him until the elder found himself weary enough to fight back against the embodiment of a blinding and incapacitating headache. 

And most importantly, Lee Minhyung was _warm_. 

Even when he had a ton to brag about, he remained grounded and humble—often finding himself lost in his insecurities even (which was, sadly, a pressing issue among their group, but they do have each other and that helps fight off their self-doubts and tribulations). Even when he could barely hold himself together with a language foreign in his lips, he never failed to try to understand the other’s whims and fancies—particularly with the inevitable rushes of weariness and exhaustion. Thus, even if it was past midnight in South Korea, he still decided to answer the call of his dongsaeng, ever so ready to come to anyone’s aid like their very own knight in shining armor—his awkward disposition only making him appear more like the perfect hero.

“Is the air different in Malaysia? I think it’s a very pleasant country though. Hotter than what you’re accustomed to, but… it’s a breath of fresh air, no?”

“What’s that mean?”

It took a few minutes before his Mark-hyung could return a response. His stuttering was a constancy that Chenle took comfort in, ever so careful with his words and deliveries. Thus, the younger breathed in the soothing presence of the boy at the other side of the call and continued to trace the visible stars that appeared up in the heavens. By the time he managed to spot the Black Tortoise, the elder spoke.

“There are still a lot of parts in this world where we’re not, like… famous and all. Even here, in Korea, and I find that… relieving, don’t you? Like you can finally take a breath for once.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Why are you suddenly asking this though?”

Although he trusted Mark Lee with his entire heart and soul, the person who never failed to acknowledge the troubles he encountered after leaving his home and dropping everything he held onto far swifter than the others who had years and years of acquaintance in both training and companionship, who never failed to leave the genuity of his heart in every compliment and praise he would offer, who never failed to protect them from the growing burdens of idoldom—

It wasn’t the right time, however.

And Mark Lee, of course, understood that because he was kind and understanding and ever so warm, so he only returned a thoughtful recognition before he finally answered Zhong Chenle’s question.

“I think… I think it’s like—like something you’re willing to be brave for. Being brave, for me, is a step you take when you’re afraid, but you still do it anyway, yeah? Are you getting everything so far?”

“Yeah. Go on, hyung,”

“Like… like you’re crossing towards the unknown, surrendering your soul—I… it’s not only about romance, yeah? It’s love as a whole and it’s scary, but I… I think trust is also a big part of it, I suppose. Especially when it’s about surrendering and all. I don’t know—I… am I making any sense?”

“Yeah, you are but…” Zhong Chenle paused, but he was never one to hesitate in expressing his thoughts, especially to the ones he trusted with all his heart, “I think you’re still lost and confused too, hyung.”

He didn’t expect Lee Minhyung to burst into a fit of laughter—the familiar lilt of his guffaw was always a welcome to everyone’s weary spirits, especially when he was once too reserved to even release a breath of uncontained laughter. He recalled him once saying that Haechan was the reason why he allowed himself to be free from such restraints. Their sunshine and everything warm was never afraid to release his loud and companionable guffaws out into the open, especially when it affected a wonder—lightening the entire air of the room.

And that, Chenle thought, was love in motion altogether.

He kept his mouth shut, however, for his hyung was still in the process of discovering the secrets of his heart himself. Whispers would often escape every so often, such as the habit of one stupid, stupid fool named Park Jisung, but the elder never failed to express his acclaims to anyone in attendance as compared to the dubious and partial mutters of that idiot, so he still found himself trusting Mark more.

 _Go on and sulk, Park Jisung_.

His Haechan-hyung would think differently, of course. Maybe he could play matchmaker to help. Being in a different group would be difficult, but if he had allies… his Taeil-hyung and Jungwoo-hyung would take part in such schemes. He could ask his Johnny-hyung too, but would he be successful in luring Johnny Suh to his ploys. He was impossibly bright and ever the bringer of interesting delights, plus he has a soft spot for both Mark and Donghyuck, so maybe…

Before he could finish his thought, Lee Minhyung had finally calmed down to a light giggle before he continued, “You’re right about that, I suppose.”

“Who do you think about whenever you write love songs, hyung?”

Another question tossed made Mark grow quiet. He could picture his hyung considering his queries with his lips pursed up, making him more adorable than ever. He wished he was sitting beside the elder with his surrounding warmth ever so present—a campfire gradually growing faint but the kindle remained to share a tender heat within anyone of reach, but there were things that could only be shared through a comfortable distance especially to someone as awkward as his lovable hyung. There were also some things that could only be brought to light by questions especially now that they were alone. No spying camera capturing their every move. No eyeing public off to make remarks of their responses. It was just an exchange between close friends, and Chenle supposed it was a good thing to make him ponder over things one would fail to consider sometimes.

“I… I, uh, I often think of the love I see from movies, books, and you know, the people around us too. But I… I don’t know, maybe I also have an ideal? Like, like a person I, uh, dream of or something similar to that, I guess…”

“I’ve always known you were a dreamer, hyung.”

“Aren’t we all though, one way or another?”

He considered this carefully for the past few months of assessing the pressings of his heart whenever one particular boy was in close attendance and was speaking teasing endearments to him and him alone. Park Jisung spoke of and to him in apparent longing—desperate to convey the secrets of his heart but only at the hours muted and dark. The shadows creeping out and the stars sparkling like the very glitters in the sky were the only ones who could hear such hushed whispers. He spoke to him like a dream, a fancy, an unreachable being which was stupid, of course, since he only needed to call his name and the elder would answer—like his Mark-hyung had said—in utmost and full surrender.

“I know what I want,” he returned in a firm tone that Lee Minhyung couldn’t even properly tease him about his nerve. Lee Minhyung was never one, however, to make fun of the minute instances of people being brave and true. His very sincerity to cheer on a person’s personal endeavors was something so unattainable and yet here was his hyung smiling through the call he picked at the hours close to dawn. Chenle could easily picture him looking rather proud and lively even if they were thousands of miles apart—he could easily picture it as if it was a piece of his heart.

“Thanks for answering, by the way. I’ll treat you to something after we return home.”

“I still haven’t tried your ramen recipe! It’s unfair that only Jisungie gets to try it! You said you’ll cook it for me when I come and visit, but you never did. Hyung is sad!”

Zhong Chenle could only chuckle at the familiar lilts of Mark’s voice from the other side of the call. He missed his hyung immensely seeing as both their units were currently going through different tours and broadcasts (not that Lee Minhyung wouldn’t be found writing songs, playing his guitar, or practicing still even at the time of their much-needed break), so it was a nice reprieve to hear the warmth of his voice even if it was a mere phone call. Thus, he could only offer a promise to fulfill his hyung’s wish before the air between them eventually stilled, the audible frequencies of vibration as the only ringing tune in passing but whatever distance, Chenle could see himself sitting beside the boy at the other side of the call, whispering the deepest secrets of his heart and soul.

“Tell me when you discover your dream, hyung. Take care of yourself!”

He ended the call even before Mark could respond, but it was a treat for his hyung—and for Lee Donghyuck as well. He should ponder over the image he sees whenever he’s writing songs. He should picture whose smile would make sparks fly up at the night’s sky, whose eyes could make him into a more bumbling mess than he already was, and whose presence could challenge the weight of the heavens itself.

It was the least he could do to his Haechan-hyung who took it upon himself to care for Chenle as if he was his own younger brother.

_Which reminds me…_

He was about to disrupt his hyung’s downtime when he remembered that Haechan was currently sharing the room with the very reason for his much needed… illumination. Thus, he shifted his goal to a night of much-needed sleep, but not before messaging each and every one of the Chinese line, uncovering who the hell thought it was a good idea to help Park Jisung deliver the fibs and fables of such treacherous words using the language of their home—a bridge that was dangerous, rickety, and downright cruel altogether.

If it was Renjun, he’s going to hide all of the elder’s socks and catch a possible tantrum on camera to post on Weibo.

For now, however, with the shadows of the night crawling through until he meets his slumber, he finally closed his eyes. With the familiar ringing of one of his favorite shows—particularly Chenji’s This and That drawing episode, he pictured a memory of laughter and intimacy until he could live through it again in his dreams with the boy dressed warmly in white—all awkward and gangly and so, so beautiful all throughout.

There was a humming, however, after a while. His phone had long gone muted and still, and all that was left to lure him to sleep was the whispered registry of Renjun’s cadence singing an ever so familiar tune. It was a song sang in English, and although he’s fairly good with the language, some parts still remained lost but this he could acknowledge,

_But can you brave what you most fear?_

_Can you face what the river knows?_

_Where the north wind meets the sea_

_There’s a mother full of memory_

_Come, my darling, homeward bound_

_When all is lost, then all is found_

Jisung had been singing the song since their arrival, his low register a tickling sensation to the ears. His voice wasn’t light and honeyed like Lee Donghyuck, nor gentle and rich as Huang Renjun—no. Park Jisung was able to unveil a different air with the flow of his voice, much more if it was fitted with a song. His voice was low and wistful, its rhythm accompanied by a deep and thunderous tune as if his very voice was luring him out to the stretch of the treacherous and unknown. And before Chenle could register anything from happening, he found himself lost at sea, staring at the great and unexplored waters of his dream. 

Be it the crevices of the soul of one Park Jisung or his own, he remained staring. Looking up, all he found was a great expanse of lofty infinite, looking down, the same unknown depth of the broad and the vast. He remembered, however, the words of his Mark-hyung, along with the song Renjun was humming as he found himself lost between the state of wakefulness and sleep. To be brave was to uncover and to face one’s fear despite all the everything and he would continue to do as such, especially when it meant living his fullest with the boy who meant the world, with his eyes capturing the very sparkles of the night’s sky and his smile gummy and true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao why did i keep writing lee minhyung as lee minhyuck jahdjwjdksksk
> 
> btw i recently made an [edit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEsKXMoiMbw) check it out if u want much love !!


	8. the nearest dream recedes, unrealized

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i went through a series of Feelings while writing this ;;;;;;;;;; so here is the list of songs i listened to while i underwent Something idk awgskdgksdgk i hope u like it ;;;;
> 
>   1. [Waking Up Slow](https://open.spotify.com/track/4NkIYlfobkqS2hALHTIUV9?si=gpkUHmaaRJ2wjYcsNfbAzQ) by Gabrielle Aplin
>   2. [Lonely For You](https://open.spotify.com/track/2w8Qlgn09E1IcOyIsxBIeL?si=_DvbmGLkS1293wbUec2l5g) by Georgia Greene
>   3. [Treacherous](https://open.spotify.com/track/7skiELMb9SiQCcBpsExIJf?si=IfidLsx8R2eKQFz3G4PxAg) by Taylor Swift
> 


> [_Suddenly I like frogㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ frog face_ 🐸 ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1208028690879143937?s=20%20\(%20frog%20\))

The first thing Zhong Chenle did upon their arrival back to South Korea was to drop his bags back at his house, kiss his mom hello and goodbye, and head towards the WayV dormitory only to find his geges gobbling up the hotpot Kun made for lunch. He was welcomed by the boys with open arms, of course—ever the baby of their growing group. The rowdiness of his geges were warm and hearty, their joyous, rollicking cheers surrounded by the familiarity of language and spirit helped him take a breath before finally breaking into a yielding smile, and joining the group to eat the inviting meal prepared by his Kun-ge.

It wasn’t unusual for him to visit the WayV dorms especially when they didn't have any schedules for the day. What was unusual, however, was to see him come and play after he’s just arrived from a schedule overseas. Thus, after the dishes had finally been cleared and his geges settled at the parlor to watch the sixth Harry Potter movie, Kun finally asked his intentions for a sudden visit.

 _“You did something,”_ Chenle started, quite careful of his accusation towards his gege who brought it upon himself to shelter him from all the inevitable struggles brought by fame and stardom even if the boy before him was treated unfairly by their company for years and years and counting, _“something…”_

_“Is this about Jisu—”_

_“Don’t say his name!”_ Zhong Chenle found himself shrieking, earning the giggles of his geges who were out poking their noses in a business that was not for them to know. Qian Kun released a chuckle of his own before relieving the unusual fretful state of their youngest and leading him to the privacy of the room he shared with Dejun and Yangyang.

 _“What’s the matter, baby?”_ Qian Kun asked all soft and gentle, his voice— _no_ , his very being all together was capable of surrounding the boy with all the comfort he needed in the world like a moonlit terrain filled with the trackless and open surround of green forestry. Kun was a constancy, a promise all present and true—the very root of trust and reliance. With the soar and the upsurge of the carefully contained secrets of his heart just a few more stirs away from crashing and crashing until he could picture himself all drowned by all of this… conundrum, he easily found himself reaching for the arms of the one and only Qian Kun with his soft and muted lullabies of ease.

Before he could reveal the burdens of his beloved gege’s unintended cruelty by helping that stupid, stupid boy build the bridge for such dangerous words—all honeyed and treacherous, there was a sudden ring in his phone. Desperate for a chance of reprieve, he easily gave in to the calls of a familiar jingle only to find Park Jisung’s LYSN status update changed.

 _“What the…”_ he could only state, causing his hyung to give in to his curiosity as well. Qian Kun returned a look of confusion before easily shrugging off the peculiar soul of Park Jisung and releasing a light chuckle in response.

“Jisungie is so cute,” the elder commented which Zhong Chenle frowned upon, of course, because _yes_ —Park Jisung was adorable even with his numerous attempts of denial. His very existence alone was a big, big stretch of wonder and beauty and just of him, him, _him_. His queer and strange ways of looking at the world and experiencing life altogether were the traits that easily lured Chenle towards his orbit, for although the boy was, without a doubt, stuck in his delusions of grandeur and fanciful daydreams, it was what made Park Jisung as Park Jisung. An idiot, a fool, and probably a fibber too, but what about it? As long as his eyes remained brilliant and lustrous, and his smile gummy and true, Zhong Chenle wouldn’t give it to the world.

Sitting before Qian Kun as he unwittingly began to peel the skin along the edges of his fingertips out of stress, fear—whatever feeling this presence of impending collapse could instill, he began, _“Park Jisung is an idiot.”_

_“You are entitled to your own opinion, but it’s not nice to be mean.”_

_“He’s an idiot, gege,”_ Chenle would repeat, never minding the amused look on the elder’s face. What was with him being so transparent with his feelings to his hyungs? Did he catch Park Jisung’s stupidity? He always knew it was contagious, but he tried to be careful—he tried so, _so_ hard to be careful, but how frustrating was it that he couldn’t help breaking like an overflowing dam from a presence he had grown to know as home.

How soon would he break before a stellar boy whose being was as vast and perilous as the heavens and seas? Who eventually grew to mean the world after all these years?

Qian Kun was quick to notice his struggles, of course. Maturity was a necessity for this line of work, and as one of the oldest members with a growing number of young ones to protect—who depended on him in guidance, inspiration, comfort, and everything else that was needed in this world, _in their world_ specifically, Qian Kun stood the ground of that persona. With every pressure, every insecurity, and even with the inevitable instances of harassment, he would stand as the barrier to protect his didis to the best of his abilities. He will protect their innocence, their radiance, their laughter, and when they were finally ready to face the world on their own, he would watch it occur but not without a hand outstretched and ready, for if a day comes and they are in need of comfort and warmth, all they had to do was to call for his reach and they would see him with open arms, standing before them as the very embodiment of the warmth of a running hearth.

Just as the image of Zhong Chenle sitting before him, with the ends of his fingertips bitten and stripped out of everything that’s to come concerning one particular fool named Park Jisung.

_“There’s a story, right? About the frog in the well…”_

He wasn’t an idiot like Park Jisung. He knew clearly well and true what his gege referring to. The frog of the well who laid staring, just staring out from the comfort of its home, not particularly interested in what would lie outside of its viewpoint. This was different, however, for he was aware of the feelings that were brewing. He was aware of the branches stretching out, the buds slowly blossoming into this suffocating foliage whenever it involves that certain fool. He was so aware of it that for once in his life, the rise of past fears, anxieties—the rise of untimely unease would stand before him, challenging him like the turtle in the fable, _“Don’t you wanna see the stretch of the vast and unfathomable sea?”_

He overcame a lot of willies and creeps year after year that he actually grew to believe that he was brave and daring, but this was a mess he didn’t think would happen in his entire lifetime especially when he didn’t think much about romantic love and marriage until—

Zhong Chenle released a sudden and piercing scream that made his gege jump out of his seat. Qian Kun’s unusual clumsiness brought comfort to his heart that he could only succumb to a pesky fit of laughter until the elder gave up on scolding him for his cheek and joined in his chorus of chuckles. The ringing in his head with his thoughts screaming and screaming at him—annoying and frustrating him to no end accompanied with the images of a boy with his eyes bright and his smile gummy and true, gradually quietened amidst the sudden interruption. Qian Kun’s giggles continued to echo across the room, their lilting tune rich and wholehearted as was the being dressed as home, until it finally grew hushed into a soft smile reserved for him and him alone.

 _“It was beautiful,”_ his Kun-ge finally broke, but even the breaking of silence appeared like a mere knock on the door. Careful, ever so careful, but similar to his attempts of leaving his Mark-hyung to question what he pictured as his dream—the muse he had unconsciously been writing songs for after years and years of acquaintance, friendship, and eventually… _love_ , Qian Kun helped him see what made his nights taste like the golden call of dawn, _“wasn’t it?”_

_“I didn’t think he was stupid enough to do something like that… but he did and it’s just—”_

He turned away from his gege and squeezed his eyes shut, ridding himself from the errant and barging truths that lie as the secrets of his heart. Qian Kun was stepping into a dangerous territory. What’s more frustrating was that it wasn’t the sneaking of a thief in the night; rather, he spied the elder standing at the foot of his door. The lock of the whispers he had carefully kept hidden and shut was out longing for someone—someone to hear, someone to see, someone, _anyone_ to finally take a peek.

And with his remaining strength, he allowed a slight truth—just a slight and tiny truth to take flight.

_“It was the best—it was just the best thing ever. Just—I just… who does that, gege? Who writes you a poem and delivers it to you using the language of your home? Who does that? How much of an idiot does he have to be, or is it just Park Jisung being Park Jisung? Why did he do that? Why didn’t he just stop during the broadcast? It’s already bad enough that he comes sprouting things like that in public. Why did he have to pull me aside, and make me listen to that stupid, stupid poem with his words broken and clear at the same time? Why does he keep doing things that do nothing but make me even more confused and lost and… and scared too. Just… why?”_

_“Did you ask him about it, baby?”_ Qian Kun asked in utmost patience, taking in the worries and tribulations of the boy before him. Hearing his gege’s voice was a breath of fresh air, for with just a mere response, Chenle found himself drawing in a much-needed breath. A reprieve, a constant, the very rock that continued to hold and treasure him with all the love and care the elder could give. He wondered if he was ever this monumental in a person’s life with his mere presence alone capable of making all the agonizing and crippling fear to cower back into the shadows, or even cease to exist like one’s own form of magic.

_“I did—I mean, I didn’t ask him explicitly but he did tell me why…”_

_“And what did he say?”_

As soon as the question escaped his gege’s lips, Zhong Chenle found himself back at the moment of such… such overwhelming intimacy. The ache came crashing like a storm surge, collapsing the very foundations of his soul and biting to the weight of his control. The downpour crept quickly to every inch of his skin with sharpened pins and needles piercing through his entire body. He remembered the air, the suffocating warmth of the air so sweet and warm and _raw_ —such a scary presence of rawness between the intertwining of two souls. He remembered the surface of the stool he sat and held on, gripping the edges tighter and tighter after each and every word that escaped from that stupid, stupid boy’s traitorous lips. He remembered seeing the minuscule particles of comic dust form the birth of stars in the very eyes of Park Jisung because he was a figure dressed in miraculous wonder, and such a marvel beyond human experience was possible in his nature. He remembered hearing the low and wistful delivery of a boy who appeared like he was pining—longing for his dream to come and hear him. It felt most treacherous to ponder over such ache because the inevitability of it being follies and fibs was an experience Zhong Chenle wasn’t particularly keen of encountering. He remembered the distinct whiff of the sea inviting him to come and spy on the vast and unfathomable calls of a new beginning. He managed to capture every minute expression even with his desperate attempts to shake it out of his remembrance, and it was all due to one, simple question. Thus, in defeat, he could only return,

_“He said he wanted to help me understand what I didn’t at first… Kun-ge, do you know something I don’t?”_

_“Jisungie just asked me to help him translate what he’s already written, baby, nothing more,”_ Kun returned without a hint of deception unlike the treacherous words of Park Jisung, so he only released a sigh in defeat before further collapsing to the bed of Xiao Dejun.

 _“Park Jisung is such an idiot,”_ he said for the third time this afternoon as he clasped his eyes tight with the pressing feel of his palms. He was about to release another deafening shriek when his gege asked,

_“Why did you feel lost and confused, baby?”_

_“Wouldn’t you feel the same?”_

Silence crept before Qian Kun was able to respond. The elder turned away from his gaze and shifted to eye the blank, brightly-lit ceiling sitting right above their heads. Chenle mirrored his gesture, tracing the emptiness until his vision grew feeble and faint—until his stubbornness finally surrendered and he was left to close his eyes in remission. Upon opening them, however, he was met with the same patient and loving smile of his Kun-ge that he could only gesture a similar beam in return before the elder spoke, _“You're right, I’d probably feel lost and confused too…”_

_“What would you do if you were in my situation?”_

He was stupid enough to ask when he already knew the answer before the elder could respond. With a smile—the same, genuinely warm smile filled with the unrivaled affection brought by the one and only Qian Kun, he was pulled closer and closer until Kun’s lips met the temple of the youngest, the ever adored and cherished baby of the Chinese line, and pressed his warmth on Chenle’s big, big head, finally whispering,

_“I’d ask him again and again until I understand. Exploring the vast and unfathomable… unlike the frog in the well.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i reshaped the fable the frog of the well to fit my story so please don't mind if it has a different interpretation lol thank u ;;
> 
> btw every dialogue italicized is spoken in chinese !


	9. a slant of light on winter afternoons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3bj9Xp7wfRKfkY5JsVtIM9?si=4bBqOEoXQly8SkgYvqpyIQ) i use for writing altho i only had "[Calling in Love](https://open.spotify.com/track/5fUZNS9QZXOg0aYjnIjr1H?si=rI5aHJ39SomQVhi9T8V6lQ)" by SURAN on repeat while writing this chapter lol i hope u like it !!
> 
> i feel like,,,,,,, when given the opportunity, jisung would vvvv much flirt with chenle in complete abandon so here's a peak of that fantasy lol

> [_I am happy_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1208754287439777793?s=20)

“Count one, two, three, and follow my lead,” Park Jisung would state as he locked a far too captivating and binding gaze that Chenle found himself surrendering without another complaint.

This was, by far, the most _agonizing_ schedule he had ever experienced, for not only was he sharing it with the biggest, most idiotic fool in the entire cosmos, but he also had to maintain the image that there was… that there was _romance_ blossoming between them—as if there wasn’t one brewing already.

_Too bad it’s unrequi—no!_

Zhong Chenle quickly shook such thoughts out of his head which was, of course, done with great difficulty seeing as he couldn’t escape this—no, he could not, unfortunately. After four years since their debut, this was the first time he was called in for a solo photo shoot. Not alone, per se, but it was close enough seeing as the world—and even the two of them if he was being honest—saw them as a pair. One would always come with the other, and he honestly didn’t mind such things from occurring. As long as he stayed employed, he was happy enough to share the spotlight with Park Jisung. These days, however, he found himself struggling to meet the public’s expectations. He was aware of the marketing ploys that their company was doing for years and years and years. They did it to his Mark-hyung and Haechan-hyung, and his Jeno-hyung and Jaemin-hyung as well. He wasn’t stupid enough not to notice the way their company was profiting off to the public’s demands. And for a long time, he couldn’t care less about their bold and money-making schemes because he found himself most comfortable with… with the boy of his dreams if he was being honest (although he wouldn’t outrightly say it to the world, much more to Park Jisung).

The boy was awkward—so frightfully awkward and gawky. Park Jisung grew as if he was uncertain of his place in the universe, where he would cower behind like a miserable and sorry mouse caught out of its hiding, but Park Jisung was also a dreamer of dreams and he executed such fantasies of being free by his artistry. At a young age, this seemingly clumsy and graceless boy was discovered to move in such bold and striking currents that it wasn’t a surprise for people to recognize him as one of the best dancers of their generation. The fact that he was still just a mere teen, yet here he was, already shaping the flow of history was a wonder to begin with. His movements were sharp and flawless, dancing with a slick and inviting air of confidence, and he took pride in that despite the numerous circumstances where he saw nothing but his flaws and shortcomings. Nevertheless, even with his recognizable and exceptional talents, he still met the dynamic come group performances.

Such as an example with Zhong Chenle standing before this foolish, foolish boy with their hands locked before the world.

_“Do a photoshoot with your best friend,” they said. “It will be fun,” they said._

What fun were they referring to when he could barely find the air to breathe in because of the very heat, the very trace of the boy who grew to mean the world suffocating him enough to the brink of his control. _A Winter Soiree in a Land Far, Far Away_ with a _mise en scène_ of a ballroom decorated with a smothering amount of flourishing blossoms—violets and carnations, tulips and chrysanthemums, not to mention the distinct presence of roses and peonies painted with each and every color in attendance. Starlit lanterns adorned with dewdrop pearls were lit, bringing about a luster of indisputable intimacy and romance that calls the ringing of a golden evening.

There was a mistletoe too planted somewhere in their lavish venue, but Zhong Chenle swiftly tossed that thought away, hiding its persisting remnants down to the grave.

He felt a pressure in his hands before anything else, only to find that he had stepped on Jisung’s foot for the fifth time since they started. The boy was persistent, as it happens, for before they could conduct their photoshoot he suggested that they should practice their intimacy to fit the setting of a soiree out of a dreamer’s sweetest ideals. Zhong Chenle felt his jaw drop, and eyes widen after hearing such a proposal for once was more than enough, but it was far too sound and logical that he could only surrender to the weight of his profession.

Park Jisung was having fun, of course, but he was stepped on five times before they could even start the shoot, so the stupid grin on his stupid face was quickly brushed off in blatant annoyance.

“Are you doing this on purpose?”

“You suck at leading. No, but seriously, why are _you_ the one leading?” Chenle asked without even bothering to acknowledge the younger’s vexation. Although _no_ , he wasn’t intentionally stepping on his foot just to cause a rise out of him seeing as he was far too preoccupied in containing the thunders ringing across his chest, the discordance of impossible realities churning on his stomach, and the bloom of every shade of red heating up his cheeks. So no, he really wasn’t messing up on purpose. But this foolish, foolish boy didn’t have to know the jitters that continued to spring just because of his close attendance, so he kept being unreasonable and frustrating because it wasn’t fair that he was the only one experiencing this lingering unease.

“You lost at rock-paper-scissors…” the boy returned before doing yet another thing that almost made Zhong Chenle lose his control. It happened all too quickly for him to turn and run away, for Park Jisung was already pulling him in and knitting their fingers into a tight hold. The closing of distance was gradual, however, for there was a pause—a moment of hesitation, and before Chenle could even comprehend it from happening, he found a breath near his ear. Tingling, piercing, and searing to the feel of his skin, but there was still the ever-so familiar feeling of warmth and zeal. For even if he found it more and more difficult to breathe in the presence of this stupid, stupid boy, _he was still his best friend_. He was still the boy, awkward and timid, but reaching to a foreigner like him. He was still the boy who welcomed him to his orbit, never minding the barriers of language and speech. He was still the boy who brought in the air of youth and sincerity—the unworldly dreamer of dreams. He was still the boy who eventually grew to mean the world, enough to see his dream manifesting into reality or the other way around as it appears.

He closed his eyes shut but found himself regretting it quickly, for the persistent quivers and quakes coursed through his other senses—a tickling in his ear as he heard the low and wistful tune of Park Jisung’s deceitful whispers with his breath slow and steady as if he was aware of the chaos transpiring before him.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” Zhong Chenle heard himself say, grateful to find that it wasn’t a complete lie.

“That hurts, but I still won so… I’ll be your prince for today.”

Park Jisung drew himself closer and closer than what was rendered as a safe and respectable distance between two friends sharing a genial dance. This was _different_ and this stupid, stupid boy knew it. Park Jisung was shaping this into something more intimate and dangerous and downright cruel, but it was expected of them—was encouraged from them, and he was close. Chenle was so, _so_ close to giving in since it wasn’t something he hated—not even a tiny bit. But if there was something he succeeded in, it was persevering until he found himself the only one standing.

Park Jisung honestly chose the wrong person to mess with, but what did he even expect from a fool like him.

“You speak of it as if it’s a prize.”

“It is.”

“Keep dreaming. I don’t need a prince, I’m already a king on my own,” he would say in such complacent confidence that he almost believed in himself for a slight second before Park Jisung came, of course, and shattered all of his footings. Honestly, how many times did he have to rebuild his blockade before the younger could take the hint and just go away? This was entirely contradictory of him seeing as he was building such barriers for the sole purpose of staying beside his best friend until the end of time—forever if such exists.

Who would’ve thought that Park Jisung would be a commendable contender of this frustrating quandary?

“That’s true, but…” the boy began with a thoughtful expression. Zhong Chenle braced himself with whatever treacherous words would escape from this idiot’s lips, but the clasp of their hands intertwined and laced like an illusive promise of staying together across every universe existing was quick to call him in. Thus, with the boy capable of bringing him to a close, he found himself staring at the vast and unfathomable waters that stood as Park Jisung. Meeting his eyes, there were still an immeasurable amount of things left uncovered and unsaid—of things that deserved more than the shadows creeping at the hours of darkness. And Chenle wanted to ask, he so desperately longed to understand the whispers of this boy’s heart, but he could only look away and breathe in the tingling near his ear once again, “…kings need saving too, don’t you agree?”

Before he found himself fully surrendered and yielding to Park Jisung of all things, he returned a quick response,

“If you say one more word, Park Jisung, I’m gonna step on something worse than your stupid foot.”

Thus, that shut the boy up. The cheeky and audacious smirk laid unmissed, of course, but Chenle counted this as his win—okay, fine, a draw at most. Nevertheless, still a win on his part.

Their bickering continued until the crew called for the start of the shoot. A few retouches and a remark reminding them to _“make it natural—dance as if you’re the only two people in the world”_ were all they were given before they were left to stand in the middle of the ballroom, with the world waiting for their blossoming to occur. The strained air between the two was evident with awkwardness looming—stretching out to each and every crevice of the room. With the staff watching and waiting for something to occur, Chenle found himself fiddling with the loose ends of his sleeves to relieve his unease. Aching to start pulling the skin surrounding his fingertips, he was surprised to see a figure approaching.

If he said he didn’t see the heavens opening, he’d be lying.

He spied a twinkle before anything else. A glittering was approaching, shifting his entire world to overturn as if it wasn’t just the boy who was stupid and foolish and idealistic and sincere and warm and just—

He closed his eyes shut once more, barring every nook and cranny with all his might. Counting one, two, three until he found himself losing count, he felt the air still unlike before with the breath of one foolish, foolish boy piercing and searing to the feel of his skin. Giving in to his curiosity and confusion as well, he drew his fear out and about, and opened his eyes, only to see the boy standing before him, watching and waiting for him to give in with a smile, warm and free just like every other part of him.

Zhong Chenle felt his knees grow weak—he felt his entire body shaken and stirred from the presence of this boy alone. He was so scared. He was so frightfully scared that he couldn’t think of anything but to stand all stiff and still until Park Jisung finally drew himself closer, extending his hand as if it was his everything. He found himself answering his call, of course, seeing as he couldn’t picture doing anything else. Thus, letting himself get pulled further and further in, their distance and intimacy far too… unfamiliar in the matters of their established relationship, he finally took a breath, letting all the thunderings—the ringings in every part of his body to surrender to the call of the younger as well.

He heard the boy puff out a smile, and he couldn’t help but capture this wonder transpiring before him. Thus, with their eyes finally meeting, with the birth and death of stars taking shape of Park Jisung alone, he was left lulling the impossible realities occurring as he drowned deeper and deeper to the rush of the vast and unfathomable unknown.

“I remember a scene from a movie,” the boy would start, his face brightly lit and sparkling together with the passing afternoon’s sunbeams. He carried their weight without much trouble which was funny seeing as this was Park Jisung, the clumsiest boy ever. But looking at him now with his entire being bewitching enough for Chenle to yield and quieten to a still or the secrets of his heart will break through their confines and cause another chaos surging, Park Jisung did look like a prince.

He was a prince— _his prince_. The boy in his reality manifesting into his dreams.

“The main lead said the most curious thing,” Park Jisung continued as Chenle traced his arched eyes and gummy smile—committing it to his memory, _“_ … _Can I keep you?”_

“What’s that even mean?” he heard himself say with the grated surface of being so frightfully scared that he could only bear the hoarse and the feeble feel in his throat. Instead of answering his question, Jisung turned to look at the cluster of floral foliage hanging above their heads with the sparkles of dewdrop pearls following each and every twirl.

“A child would probably say something like that.”

“That makes two of you then,” Chenle returned with an unintended bitterness in his tone, causing the boy to meet his eyes once more. Park Jisung took no notice of his tone, but more on his response. After another whirl, the boy pulled him in closer and closer to his orbit until the heat of his breath was, once again, prickling a weight of thousands and thousands of pins and needles, creeping and creeping until he was left to lean on the boy before him or his knees will break down to a crumble.

“You think I’m a child?”

“No, I think you’re childish and foolish. There’s a difference.”

Honestly, the audacity of this boy to shift his face far too close for Chenle’s heart to take was becoming more and more unnerving that he was honestly this close to hitting him despite all the eyes watching. But, he forced himself to stop his urges and waited for whatever cheek this boy would deliver. He wasn’t far off seeing as Park Jisung still had the gall to say, “I’m cute though, aren’t I?”

Ever the fool even with his big, big head in existence.

Despite his growing frustrations for the one and only Park Jisung accompanied by the pressing fear and dread, and the impossible realities signaling something that would lie beyond the limits of friendship, he would swallow every bit of this hopeless and bitter thwarting. Against all the everything, the intertwining they had at present was already enough. This—whatever they had—was already a dream come true. He was a reality shaped into a dream, what more could he ask for? All that talk about being brave when he’s afraid, and crossing the boundaries of his limited space—all that meant nothing. Nothing at all when it could shatter his everything.

Words left unsaid still bore a power in his hold, and he would use them to his advantage just to see a smile so true and blinding amidst the gleam of an afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this isnt how conventional photoshoots work,,,,,, but i just wanna live in my fantasies lol


	10. hope is a thing with feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mark: [oh dude he's flirting](https://twitter.com/byeoldream/status/1294233941138800642?s=20)

> [ _Were you puzzled? ㅋㅋ_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1211917401098313728)

Another eerie box sat before them.

Similar to the air of their venue, the box was adorned with a florid furnish complete with a set of Christmas candles to make it even more festive and intimate than it already was. Zhong Chenle sat fiddling the ends of his sleeves, trying his best to ignore the heat emitting from the presence of the boy of his dreams.

_“We received over six thousand questions for this bit alone. We tried our best to collect the most appropriate ones, but if you choose something you find uncomfortable answering, don’t worry. We’ll edit it out for you, okay?”_

They started with the simple and harmless question _“What’s your favorite food to eat during winter?”_ hanging above their heads. A thousand dishes coursed through his mind especially when food was the first thing he missed when he left home. Food had the power to shift through the calls of home, the spices and their aromas mixed in all of his favorite dishes would leave a lingering trace that even after hours and hours, their bits and pieces would continue to remain as a way to overcome the inevitable rushes of homesickness. The intimacy of sharing a meal transcends all limits, such as the intimacy of asking _“Have you eaten?”_ —of which he was most thankful for one Lee Donghyuck.

Amidst all this, however, he found himself stating a genuine truth escaping from his lips.

“Ramen or… instant noodles in general.”

“Why instant noodles?”

He heard one of the staff ask, but he was unable to meet the eyes of the person who posed such a query, so he stared blankly at the muddled crew before him and returned, “I feel like each country has its own… own version of it. If you’re in a foreign country and you find yourself… missing home, even if it’s difficult, try to find the noodle pack of your home. I think… I think it will be the best comfort.”

“What if you can’t find it?” Park Jisung asked with his eyes meeting his, feeling the collision of all the impossible realities occurring.

There was a thundering first before anything else. Amidst a room full of unfamiliar faces, the boy continued to stick out—a comfort to his soul with his big, big hands; big, big head; and ever big, big heart, Park Jisung stood out from all the rest. But instead of dwelling further into the ringings that continued to roar, Chenle locked his gaze instead of turning away. With a smile and secrets rushing to escape, he returned with every bit of sincerity, “You can always try making your own.”

He spied the boy returning a smile of his own before continuing to pull another piece from the eerie box sitting before them.

_“What’s your favorite thing about cooking?”_

Park Jisung could only chuckle helplessly before giving the piece of paper to Zhong Chenle. He returned another helpless laugh after one of the staff asked if he could cook, adding, “Our dorm would burn if I attempted to cook alone, so no. It’s for Chenle, for sure.”

Eyes were once again fixed at him, and he loved it in all honesty. He always wanted to share a bit of his life in every given opportunity since it felt like sharing the bits and pieces would entertain their audience greatly, and there was a truth behind that as well. Their fans loved a good TMI, and he always tried his best trying to deliver the words more clearly—if he was given the chance, of course. Now, everything appeared to be too fast-paced that if he couldn’t catch up, he’d be back to the start with his young self, smiling and laughing even when he couldn’t understand a thing around him.

Pretending was tiring sometimes too if he was being honest.

But right now… right now, there were people willing to listen. Their managers were behind the sea of blur before them, but their faces weren’t the first thing he would see. Instead, it was a light beaming to showcase his best fit and a smile, gummy and true, watching and waiting for him to deliver his words. For that, he spoke, “My favorite thing about cooking is… well, I get to try different things. Through that I get to—how do I say this? I get to mark it as my own.”

Instinctively, he shifted towards the person he knew _—or at least hoped—_ was always listening. And before he could even meet his eyes, Chenle found himself calling for his best friend’s acknowledgment, “You get what I mean?”

The tremors rose quickly upon their meeting—far too quickly, for this was a sensation he wasn’t a stranger to. But, amidst all the quivers and quakes, a weight was lifted seeing as the person he wished was listening was right here, hanging to every word that would escape from his lips. He took a deep breath and returned an absent nod before retreating back to their audience, “It’s… it’s something that only _I_ can make, and I think that’s what’s fun about it.”

Before starting again, he spied the boy shaped in wonder with his eyes mapping the limitless expanse of the heavens and the seas, and he found himself continuing, drowning further and further to calls of a vast and unfathomable being.

“I really like cooking for myself, but these days though it’s… it’s really fun to cook for other people too. My mom, my dad, and our members too…”

As if the boy beside him heard his call, Park Jisung continued with his face bright and light, his eyes containing a thousand stars—and more, that’s a certainty, “I visit his house sometimes—to come and play. He cooks for me a lot, and with every meal I think it’s the most delicious thing in the entire world!”

A creeping urged him to release a sudden scream slid but Chenle tried his best to still himself. However, he couldn’t help feeling scared of the words that would further escape from the boy’s lips—scared of the fibs and fables that would shape into something worth hoping. Before he could comprehend what’s happening, Park Jisung continued just as light and quick with the air around him bright and bouncy without a care in the world.

“He’s a very good cook, you see.”

Chenle released another deep breath and followed the flow of the lightness in the air, “He eats too many snacks, and he doesn’t sleep properly too! That’s why he gets sick often. You have to feed him a lot, or else he’ll stumble like a twig.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be ‘snap like a twig’?”

He turned to face Park Jisung and saw the boy laughing in defeat. It was only seeing the boy’s expression that Chenle realized the words escaping from his lips, but truth be told, it needed to be said. This stupid, stupid boy was far too reckless about his health! The weather was already a mess with its unpredictable swings, so if every other day was a shift from cold to hot, it wouldn’t be a mystery that Park Jisung had, yet again, caught in a sneezing fit. He tried to give him a dirty look, but the idiot only laughed at his attempt to threaten him with a meal full of only veggies and beans. Park Jisung continued to chuckle, and if Chenle said this wasn’t his favorite sound in the entire universe, he’d be lying, of course.

_Doesn’t mean this idiot should know about it, though._

“I know you won’t break easily, but you’d fall though because you’re clumsy,” he finally managed to continue after the boy beside him had finally settled into a close. Park Jisung breathed out a resigned smile that Chenle couldn’t help giving himself a mental pat on his back because this truly was the best thing ever—just his best friend, shaped like a dream, with his smile gummy and true, “You’re so tall and clumsy—like a cartoon character.”

“I’m glad my existence is entertaining for you.”

“I’m getting tired of it.”

The words escaped before he could stop and think, but of course, Park Jisung would see him through and through—every minuscule expression was laid unmissed whenever it concerns him as his Jeno-hyung has stated in a muted parting. So, he let the boy have the last say because he’s tired, and in all honesty, he hadn’t a clue of what to do after the younger drew the tips of his hands closer and closer to him. Like a spell—binding and stilling him from doing anything, he watched Park Jisung trace the ends of his fringe. _All curled up and pretty_ , the stylist-noona had uttered after styling him into something out of a dream, and he could only brace himself as he watched the lingering heat of the younger luring and luring him into a land of fibs.

“We all know that’s a lie, Chenle-ya.”

Before he could take another breath, a swift gust ran through and everything was back in its place with Jisung’s hands clasped together in a tight embrace. A question, then another was thrown, and surprisingly, Zhong Chenle found himself once again meeting the light and bouncy air of familiarity.

Until, of course, another question caused an untimely hesitation.

_“When was the last time you two had a fight?”_

They couldn’t help sharing a look before offering a response, a silent agreement not to speak of their most private affairs, particularly the kinds of misunderstandings that even they weren’t particularly ready of confronting, out and exposed to the world. Just like the words they would whisper at the hours all dark and resting, where the drowsy air would charm their hearts into speaking secrets on his part and whatever bullshit Park Jisung would whisper out and about, they would remain all hushed and undisclosed to the world before them. Hearing the younger speak, he couldn’t help thinking if there were deceit in his tone, but the boy did have the power to sound sincere when in truth it was all filled with follies and fibs.

“We never really fight though…”

“What do you mean? We just fought ten seconds ago,” he said to lighten the air between them, and he succeeded in making the boy beside him laugh, concluding that it was all he needed to hear in the world. After the younger finally settled into a close, Chenle drew a breath and whispered, “I hope we continue this for a long time…”

“You want us to fight for a long time?”

“Yeah…” Zhong Chenle couldn’t help muttering into a blank sea of faces before him. Shifting his gaze, however, he was met by a boy all bright and blue with his eyes arched, and his smile gummy and true. Paying no heed to the currents crashing and crashing at the calls of the tempest occurring in every inch of his inner organs, the prickling creeping in all quick and easy it seemed like a cruel tickling at this point, he continued, “I’d fight with you forever if I could.”

“Chenle-ya…” Park Jisung started with a knowing look on his stupid, stupid face. Quick to realize the weight of the words said, he could only hope that this boy had the conscience not to pull any tricks—any cruel tactics that would push him to hope and cling to a dream.

The stupidest, most ridiculous thing he could ever dream.

Seeing as this was Park Jisung, though, he should have known better. He should’ve expected that this boy would speak of all follies and fibs out and about—soaring through his fancies and daydreams, his sense all lost and abandoned as he flew up, up, and away to the land of never.

“Are you proposing that you want me in your life forever?”

Oh, how he tried so hard not to hit his big, big head in a room full of strangers. He succeeded in the end, of course. But how long until he would finally lose all of his self-control? Before he found a second to ponder over things he wasn’t particularly keen on uncovering, he needed to let the world know that Park Jisung was seriously— _seriously_ the biggest idiot in the entire cosmos.

“Now you’ve just ruined it! Feel free to leave now.”

The crew couldn’t help releasing a fit of laughter after their exchange that he felt rather proud of charming an entire audience without any intent or motive. He took advantage of their dazzled state and reached for the box to pick out another question, only for the universe to strike his entire being rather harshly. Windswept and beaten in a swift and ruinous course, Zhong Chenle could only close his eyes shut for such an untimely decree. It wasn’t a surprise that his reaction attracted the attention of the boy who was all around wrapped in wonder, giving in to his curiosity and moving closer and closer.

 _Heat_.

Heat slithered in before he could take a breath; thus, Zhong Chenle was left holding everything in—holding the air to live, holding the blush creeping in quick, holding his tongue from saying something stupid. He held it in, but the weight was truly impossible to carry even for idiots with their otherworldly whims and daydreams. He should’ve acted swift, should’ve crumpled the paper—ate it even so everyone wouldn’t be able to know a thing, but he could only hold on to the dreaded piece of parchment and keep himself from drowning further and further in.

“ _Describe the person of your dreams_ ,” Park Jisung broke, probably misinterpreting Chenle’s silence from illiteracy.

( _Which was dumb of him_ , Chenle couldn’t help adding, _because I can best him at anything!_ )

“It has nothing to do with us, though.”

“What?”

The biggest idiot in the entire cosmos turned to look at him in confusion, his hand moving to snatch the stupid piece of paper away from him, but Chenle settled on being stubborn because he truly didn’t have a clue on how to act during these moments of ill-timed agitation. He just wanted everything to _stop_. He so desperately wanted everything to stop, but the universe was never at his side, unfortunately.

It got him thinking… although he didn’t have a choice, he should’ve said something before stepping into a scene where the idea of romance was practically slapping him in the face rather harshly.

“This is about romantic love—it has nothing to do with us. Not that I’m saying we don’t feel it, but… is it even okay for us to say anything?” Chenle continued, desperately trying to avoid meeting the younger’s eyes, and searched for their managers’ instead. The sea of blur grew more and more prominent, however, as if he was met by a stretch of a precipice—all the unknown and uncertain surging and surging in, enveloping him to the brink of his control. Thus, he continued to ramble, all the nervousness and fear escaping. He steered clear away from the thought of tenderness and longing especially when the boy he’d been pining over was just within his reach—one call and this stupid, stupid boy would probably give in to live in his fantasies.

Chenle would probably continue spouting nonsense if not for a call of his name.

“Chenle-ya.”

Zhong Chenle was weak whenever it came to Park Jisung, so he wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself turning to meet his gaze, all of his attempts left forgotten and thrown. He felt another surge crash through, for he spied not stars and all the other bullshit he’d been saying about this fool for these past months, but just a boy—just a boy with a firm and unblinking stare. He could feel himself wanting to cower away, yet his curiosity had a different aim. Stubborn to a fault, he held his gaze, and with a pluck of courage, he asked, “What?” never minding the grating feeling on his throat along with every inch of his skin.

“Chenle-ya.”

“What?”

“Chenle-ya.”

“Why do you keep saying my name?”

“Zhong Chenle,” Park Jisung muttered until it grew fainter and fainter for Chenle to decipher. Before he could offer another puzzled response, the younger grabbed the eerie box decorated in a florid furnish and read another request from a piece of paper. They finished the segment with them singing each other’s parts in “Best Friend” and the younger was back to his spirited air of youth and naivety. Chenle met his temper and continued to uplift the much-preferred humor fit for the theme of a winter fairytale.

Luckily, this marked the end of their shoot with the mistletoe left only as a trinket to fit the air of the room. After offering their gratitude and bidding their farewells, they were left alone in the car waiting for their managers to unsettled unfinished businesses. Park Jisung still held an uncharacteristic silence where not a single peep escaped from his lips. Counting one, two, three until he lost count once again, he finally turned to face the boy beside him.

“Are you alright, Park Jisung? You seem… you seem too quiet. It’s boring without your mindless chatter.”

The boy drew a small smile, shaking his head over heaven knows what.

“Is that why you’ll keep following me even if you’re in heaven and everything?”

“Who says anything about following you? You said it was boring, so why stay?”

“Seriously,” Park Jisung began with a resigned smile, and Chenle couldn’t help spying the marvels in his eyes appearing once again, “you are a wonder. Your birthday is coming up… what do you want?”

“Want what?”

“For a present, of course!”

Chenle couldn’t help releasing a scoff, for Park Jisung had never, ever given him a present for his birthday—much less anyone for that matter. His mom, probably, but with Park Jisung, one shouldn’t really expect anything.

“As if you’ll give me anything. Who are you fooling, Park Jisung?”

“You might be surprised…”

“I’ll pretend to be shocked when you give me nothing—I’ll even post a video of it.”

Park Jisung brushed his hand over his, tracing the tips of fingers—lingering close, yet so careful for pressing a further weight and assurance Chenle knew he couldn’t fulfill. With the heat of his touch, Zhong Chenle drew in a breath. He almost flinched his hand away—was considering to escape another scene that would pull him out of his senses, but he really couldn’t find the strength to draw himself away from Park Jisung. He did that before, and he only suffered, especially after seeing the boy down and trodden caused by his lack of consideration.

So he breathed in the heat, breathed in the fear—breathed in everything in between.

“Prepare to be amazed, Zhong Chenle,” Park Jisung returned with an impish grin, audacious and cheeky enough to rouse Chenle’s urge to hit this stupid, stupid boy’s stupid, stupid head, “I’ll take your breath away.”

_As if he hadn’t already._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just found out that emily dickinson prob likes women,, stay winning gays uwu
> 
> btw i got the part of calling chenle's name again and again from [here](http://www.mangago.me/read-manga/kimi_ni_wa_todokanai/hs/hs_v-1-chapter-1/),,
> 
> lol after reading it again,, i kinda dont like this chapter but welp,,,


	11. there came a day entirely for me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there'll prob be mistakes so i'll edit in a few,,

> [ _If you can’t sleep after 15 minutes of closing your eyes, you can (try to) fold your clothes or socks_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1211020657175097344)

“How was your last birthday before becoming a fully-fledged adult?” his Haechan-hyung would start, creeping closer and closer with his elevating warmth. A welcomed treat, especially when it’s from the boy whose heart glows and smile wins.

He remembered Renjun once saying that the color of joy was pink—love and peace mixing and mixing, painting the canvas with the colors in between. As he spied the wreaths fashioned like the flowers blooming in the spring and words spoken for him and him alone, a blossoming came, full-blown and splendid in its entirety. Knowing Park Jisung and his inherent practice of expecting nothing and giving nothing in return during birthdays, he honestly didn’t expect anything even if it was for a new episode of This and That. Although he recalled telling a joke, demanding for the younger to present the best and only the best on his special day in November, he honestly, _truthfully_ didn’t expect anything—especially with the shades of pink coating his day with an indescribable surge of happiness and warmth.

The color pink welcomed him as he met Park Jisung at SM’s Sum Cafe with the familiar sketches of the different sites in Seoul decorating the wall behind them. Below it sat an adorned chest, ornamental and splendid but behind the grandeur laid the mischief. On the first cabinet, tiny caricatures were drawn by bored children between the ages of fifteen and sixteen respectively (fourteen and fifteen, internationally). He remembered the younger’s voice cracking as he laughed at their own adolescent mischief—a boy once tiny and trembling as if he didn’t have the power to write history. Now, he spied the boy grown, towering every single one of his hyungs—still shy and trembling, but was more daring and dashing than before.

Audacious enough to still play games even if they had a schedule ongoing too!

The color pink colored both of the younger’s cheeks, growing more and more flustered after every bad lie he would mutter. Chenle resigned himself to a smile, finding himself pulling the ends of his fingertips. Park Jisung caught him, of course, pulling his poor fingers away from his nails and brushing a light caress as if it’ll magically heal the peeled skin. Despite the intricacy, the failure to press the weight Chenle was certain the younger couldn’t fulfill, the heat—the warmth, the golden gleam continued to linger and linger until he found himself being steered to the familiar path of their practice room.

The color of pink surprised him with his hyungs adorned in ribbons and frills. He tried to read his Jaemin-hyung’s message but was lured before a cake lit everything golden and sparkling. Uneven lilts escaping from his hyungs’ lips surrounded the air, and he could only find himself breathing in the treasure of five, brightly lit stars basking the heavens before them. “Make a wish, Chenle-ya,” he heard his Jeno-hyung say just a second before he blew the unsteady, waxen candles kindling an impossible brilliance—their sparks possessing the splendors of fireworks during New Year’s Day. His hyung looked dumbly at him for a second or two then proceeded to join in the chorus of laughter filling in the closed apartment.

The color pink rose even up to the tips of their youngest’s ears after their Renjun-hyung screamed, “Why is Park Jisung’s sign here?” while gripping the ball tightly between his hands and their laughter growing more and more unrestrained after each passing minute. Upon hearing that he bought the gift—Park Jisung had actually bought _him_ a gift, a basketball of all things—he felt his cheeks grow visibly pink too. Park Jisung had no interest in sports, a boy only concerned with games and dancing—and musings too, of course. But it felt incredibly… heartening to see him going out of his way to prepare _this_ just for him.

The color pink painted the scene as his hyungs wrapped him with the flowery wreaths, and sang Happy Birthday with the language of his home. Their voices resonated throughout the room, and into the crevices of his heart and soul as well. Breathing in the warmth that surrounds him, Chenle found himself speechless by such uncontained intimacy. He could only resign, weak and willing to his hyung’s proposal for an untimely sleepover at their dormitory.

“I don’t have my jammies,” Chenle returned, giggling at his Haechan-hyung’s insistent calls and smothering embrace. The elder only pushed his lips together into a pout, releasing deafening and cutesy cries until the younger surrendered to his enveloping warmth.

“We’ll just steal Jaeminnie’s, don’t worry.”

He was met with the same puckered lips, pulling him closer and closer to pepper kisses all over his cheeks. Zhong Chenle tried to resist his persistent hyung, but after a while, he yielded to his control. Thus, he was left with the warm weight of Lee Donghyuck holding him tightly without any attempts of letting go.

“I’ve missed you,” his hyung started after a while, loosening the grip he had but was still emitting the same sunlit warmth even at the eve of the witching hour.

“I’ve missed you too, hyung.”

“So how was it?” Haechan asked in an air all light and bubbly, “How was your last birthday before becoming a fully-fledged adult?”

Zhong Chenle found himself pulling away from his hyung’s warmth, and to his surprise, Lee Donghyuck allowed such to happen. The mattress laid feathery to his touch, a reprieve from the growing heaviness in his heart. Rising from the bed his hyung had insisted they share despite its close and compact space, he turned to fiddle with his fingers in a slight second of hesitation before finally asking, “What’s love to you, hyung?”

He expected his hyung to return a look of confusion, to tilt his head due to such a surprising query. But at these hours, he found no other time perfect for seeking an answer to such a… complicated idea. For despite his mischievous streak, Lee Donghyuck was also a sentimental boy. Although sometimes he performed questionable acts of care and concern, especially towards Lee Minhyung, all in all, the boy beamed with love and affection, his rays reaching the weary hearts and souls of the people around him. Thunderous, oftentimes, but warm just the same.

The rising of a new day, such as his namesake.

Wrapping all the dark and weary just by his laugh alone, or even just by the cadence of his tone—that was the magic of Lee Donghyuck. The boy easily sprang, as if to answer the calls of a summer’s day like sun-warmed wildflowers blooming all free and willing—sprinkling the fields with warmth and beauty, “It’s something that can’t be explained, but people try anyway…”

The elder pulled to a stop, appearing to consider his words with great care and attention. Thus, while waiting for his hyung to deliver his thoughts, Zhong Chenle turned to spy on his hyung’s rosy cheeks. Creeping up until he found himself staring down the light lashes sheltering Lee Donghyuck’s eyes. Swift and jolting like a bolt of lightning, he jumped after seeing his hand being drawn further into the elder’s warmth with Lee Donghyuck stroking the roughness in his hands all light and carefree like the air in between.

“Though, if you’ve asked me last night or in half an hour, I’ll probably have a different answer each time.”

“What’s here and now—that’s what’s important,” he couldn’t help pressing, using the words a stupid, stupid boy once said to him. He remembered the shape of his lips muttering the words like a magic spell off to beguile him to his sweetest dreams, the slight second of promise held with his dark eyes meeting his, the low and wistful cadence of his tone that whispered words unknown to everyone but them alone. He also remembered the boy retreating back, off to the land of uncertainty, and changing the topic just as quickly as it came. He remembered the annoyance, the hopes left shattered without a moment’s breath. He remembered and remembered and remembered, but was swiftly overthrown by his hyung’s response—like the first ray of light after the storm.

“That’s true… but why are you asking though?”

“I’m on a quest,” he answered resolutely, surprising himself that it wasn’t entirely untrue.

“To discover love? Are you that bored?”

Zhong Chenle couldn’t help releasing a helpless chuckle after Haechan’s retort, revisiting the air of the vast and unfathomable seas that marked the realization of his feelings. Looking up, looking down—he found the stretch of a great and blue beyond, just as the wonder dressed in the figure of an eighteen-year-old boy with his arched eyes and gummy smile promising fibs and fables that could easily bring him to his downfall.

“I’m making sure, actually.”

“Of your feelings?”

“It’s more about the other person,” he returned blankly before finally meeting his hyung, his resolve loud and clear unlike the boy who dwelled deep within his fancies and daydreams—longing for an empty promise that he couldn’t fulfill.

“Shouldn’t you ask that person instead?”

Lee Donghyuck’s inquisitive spirit, although reasonable, was getting kind of annoying. He loved to tease too, so together with his curiosity, mischief laid underneath. Thus, Zhong Chenle used the only means to direct his hyung back on track.

_Hopefully, but Lee Donghyuck was predictable sometimes._

“I was curious, so I asked Mark-hyung—”

“What? You asked _Mark_ first? Of all people, Zhong Chenle!”

His hyung, despite his formidable stature, had a weakness. And just as he had hoped, Lee Donghyuck unknowingly got hauled into Chenle’s trap. He may be _the_ Lee Haechan, but he’s predictable sometimes too—especially when it comes to one, specific hyung. Eight years of close acquaintance and companionship, but they had yet to settle the whispers of their hearts.

His Mark-hyung's probably at fault, of course, but Lee Donghyuck was lenient and careful too when it came to Mark.

“I was curious.”

“But he’s an idiot!”

“I can’t argue with that,” Chenle returned in apparent fondness, picturing his hyung’s face when he asked him all those weeks ago. His thoughtful manner in considering the secrets wishing to escape even if he was oblivious of it from occurring. Mark Lee would’ve pondered about it, that’s for sure and certain, especially after he had grown far more awkward with Haechan’s sporadic attempts of physical intimacy, but they had all the time in the world. So he would let them be.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” his Haechan-hyung asked in a sulky fit that Chenle failed to determine if this was a mere act or a genuine response altogether. Zhong Chenle could only shrug in apparent indifference but gestured a bright smile to comfort his hyung’s beaten heart.

“I’m asking you now, aren’t I? Besides you were with Ji—I mean! It’s just… it was just out of a whim. I wasn’t really thinking much when I called him.”

“Of course you weren’t, or you wouldn’t have called him in the first place!” Lee Donghyuck would stubbornly proclaim, his childishness especially whenever it concerns their Mark-hyung jumping out at a fast pace—quicker than Chenle would have hoped. Which was brilliant, of course, seeing as he had easily won the game. The elder eventually quietened to a still, serious but openly sincere, “Call hyung whenever, Chenle-ya. I’ll always do my best to help.”

“I know you would.”

Lee Donghyuck returned a winning beam with his warmth growing more steady. Whenever his hyung wasn’t in his best mood, the air would often fall into a suffocating limbo. Although it was understandable seeing as his Haechan-hyung was only human—was torn between two groups too, the air would grow smothering and still. Light would shine through after a while, and the mood would lighten as if it was a breath of fresh air—the first taste of ice cream in a hot summer’s day, the whiff of wild rhododendrons welcoming the season blooming, or _the_ kiss with the fireworks booming even if he had yet to experience it.

Lee Donghyuck was capable of such magic.

“You still haven’t answered me though.”

“It’s just what I feel at the moment, yeah? This is just the first thing that popped into my head,” his Haechan-hyung began, looking rather shy with the way he kept avoiding the younger’s eyes but Zhong Chenle could only return an amused grin before staring blankly at the ceiling hanging above them. He didn’t have to wait until his vision turned blurry before Lee Donghyuck would start again, “It’s when… it’s when you’re cooking and someone says, ‘Can I have a taste?’ so you let them, but before offering it to them, you blow on the food first because it’ll be too hot to be eaten. That’s… that’s what love is for me—at the moment, I mean…”

He tried to appear polite by attempting to consider his hyung’s words in silence, but he quickly gave up and frustratingly, he said, “Hyung… I only understood the cooking part.”

“I think it’s like this too… trying your best to explain what you’re saying to a person who couldn’t understand.”

Zhong Chenle coursed through a series of memories—every time he found it difficult to pronounce a word in Korean, every time he struggled to remember a word at the tip of his tongue, every time his part was cut off because it took too much time for him to deliver his words clearly. Even with all that, however, he remembered his Renjun-hyung staying by his side and remembering to render the words lost and confused from his once limited vocabulary, he remembered his Jaemin-hyung patiently trying to correct the confusing Korean letters during broadcasts and even outside of that, and he remembered Park Jisung muttering in a tone all low and calm, “ _Take your time_ ” and reassuring his entire existence like a magic spell out of a fairytale ending.

He remembered all the good and the bad, but at the end of the day, love would triumph just the same.

“You… you always have to explain things to me. I…” he tried to deliver, considering his words carefully as Lee Donghyuck sat there waiting, his eyes painted with the colors of the setting sun and his lips muttering a stream of reassurances in a hushed manner, “Well first—thank you. But isn’t it frustrating though?”

“Not really…”

Chenle gave him a look of disbelief funny enough to lose the elder into a series of adorned fits. He eventually spoke of truths, however, matching the sincerity of the air between them, “I mean—sometimes, yeah but… but you learned a whole new language, Chenle-ya. You should be proud of how far you’ve come.”

“I am proud though! But…”

He remembered all the bad again despite the warmth comforting his hold. He remembered his fourteen-year-old self, unable to say a single word in Korean except the most basic of greetings. He remembered feeling stupid enough to want to show the world that he’s learning—that he’s trying. They just had to be a little patient, and he would show them his efforts in building a bridge to a world completely unknown to him until a few years ago. Being the youngest of the foreign line, he was greatly coddled and humored because he was adorable and talented enough to challenge the training that took years of polishing. He was growing older and older, however, and it still felt like he was missing out on a lot despite all the attempts he tried in shaping it into a place he could call home.

Maybe he should stay at the dorms more…

Lost in thought, he forgot about his hyung for a minute or two before the elder broke the silence and spoke in a tone hushed and wholehearted, “Yuta-hyung gets homesick sometimes, you know? And whenever that happens, we try our best to speak to him in Japanese, even if we’re absolute shit at it.”

“That’s warm,” he heard himself say because it was true. It was inevitable for them to experience the longing for home—even the native members of their growing group sometimes found it difficult, what more with their Yuta-hyung who was the only Japanese in their group? He was lucky he had Kun, Renjun, Winwin, and every Chinese member he met after that. He was lucky to be surrounded by people willing to shelter him from any rushes of insecurity and loneliness with a mere call alone. He was lucky and warm and just—

“It’s just a small attempt of comfort, but I’m glad you think so. That means it’s working, right? Anyway, what I was trying to say earlier…”

Lee Donghyuck took the time to explain his answer, even going to the extent of acting it out. He would stir an imaginary pot before taking out an imaginary spoon and ask, “Would you like a taste?” Chenle would return an endeared giggle before nodding his head briskly enough to shake the remnants of bad memories after bad memories off of his head. His hyung would then purse his lips, blowing the imaginary spoon in an eager play, and turn to feed the younger with the imaginary taste of his love and warmth. Zhong Chenle joined the act, proceeding to compliment his hyung’s cooking before finally breaking down into another fit of laughter.

“Isn’t that…” the younger said as he caught his breath, “isn’t that far too specific though?”

“That’s why you should’ve asked me instead of Mark-hyung! I know more than him! I can make anything about love,” Lee Donghyuck would hold in an unwavering stance, appearing far too confident with himself when there was a defenseless loophole behind that conceit and Zhong Chenle knew just how to pull his strings.

“What about Mark-hyung then?”

“What about him?”

“How is _he_ related to love?”

For a second, the great and mighty Haechan came to a standstill. He would lock his eyes with Chenle, looking for what? Heaven only knew, but he was looking at the wrong person. His search for the answers that were probably afraid to manifest and come to being would, unfortunately, be in vain. Still, Donghyuck considered their Mark-hyung for a minute or two before shrugging off in apparent disinterest, “He’s a lost cause, Chenle-ya. Don’t even bother.”

“I thought you could do anything!”

“I am a god with limitations, unfortunately.”

Looking at his hyung, he saw a boy all honeyed and warm, bringing the colors of the breaking of dawn. He poked on his cheeks lightly, then shifted to his button nose that bloomed like the coming of spring. _The color of joy is pink_ , his Renjun-hyung would claim, and he spied the mix of both the sun and stars—the color of everything sunlit and warm with the shades of merry and glee, wondering how Lee Minhyung could stop himself from succumbing to the calls of bliss.

If his Mark-hyung won't do anything, he would settle in urging the more assertive of the two.

“Try asking him the same question, hyung. He’ll probably say the same thing he’s said to me,” Chenle suggested as he pinched the boy’s cheeks rather harshly before his hyung retreated back from his eager ways of showing affection.

“How do you know that?”

“Mark-hyung’s predictable sometimes, and…” the younger stopped, considering the words that would escape from his lips. He couldn’t help feeling excited since this situation shared the similar sensation of disclosing a spoiler to their fans, but despite his claims of them being easy and predictable, these two could surprise him at a thunderous rate enough to shake him off of his footing, nevertheless… “he’ll probably tell it to himself—to keep him… to keep him _convinced_. To push him to tell the secrets he’s been keeping or doesn’t even know existed in the first place. I just hope… I just hope he’d act on it, instead of just writing about it on his notebook.”

“You’re being so mysterious, Chenle-ya. I can barely catch up,” Lee Donghyuck would state before pulling him to a tighter embrace. The heat of the elder was always a welcoming sensation especially when they lived apart compared to the other members of their group. Nevertheless, the warmth was the same—capable of driving away the evil spells just with the lilt of his distinct tone and enclosing the air with nothing but an exuberant display of laughter and warmth.

Being the mood maker, the boy embodying the very sun shining bright above the heavens, Lee Donghyuck deserved a fairytale ending too. Even if his prince—his knight in shining armor was still in the process of overcoming his fears and anxieties, he could come crashing like the very savior of his story.

“Just… try asking him, hyung. Call me after if you’d like. I’ll try my best to help too.”

After a welcomed amount of thousands and thousands of kisses coming from his dear hyung, the two finally settled into a close until their bodies laid intertwined amongst a pool of blankets sheltering them from the pressing autumnal chill. Lee Donghyuck fell asleep first, always in need of a moment of repose. He heard his hyung’s breathing grow more and more shallow until he found himself surrendering to sleep as well. A short while after, he roused from his sleep, finding himself needing to take a leak. Luckily, his hyung had finally shifted his embrace to a body pillow beside him, so Chenle crept away as silently as he could and walked up to the bathroom only to find Park Jisung doing…

_What is this idiot doing?_

Zhong Chenle did his business quickly, washed his hands, and ran to the parlor to find Jisung folding his socks at the dead of night where only the stars sparkling in the sky and the shadows of the night creeping as the only existences in attendance. He supposed this was a stupid thing… to fall into his bait when it was all clear and apparent, but he was curious (and worried as well, but Park Jisung didn’t have to know about that). So, walking towards the boy who was every bit built in wonder, he cleared his throat loud enough to call the attention of the younger.

“What are you doing?”

“Folding my clothes.”

Chenle drew himself closer until he met the shaggy texture of the rug where a pile of clothes laid tousled and untidy just beside a small tower of folded laundry. He sat on a clear space, directly facing the younger, and pulled a shirt from the pile to accompany the biggest fool in the entire cosmos.

“ _Why_ are you folding your clothes in the middle of the night?”

“I can’t sleep,” Park Jisung said simply with a weary smile laid on his face. It was unfair, of course, that with a mere beam he had the power to cause another fluttering to take place even with Zhong Chenle still drowsy in sleep. The chaos shifting roused him to his wakefulness. Thus, in order to silence the thundering occurring across every inch of his skin, he began folding the white shirt he took from the pile while the boy continued, “My mom taught me this… I had trouble sleeping even from way before, you see, so she came into my room carrying a fresh load of laundry and we’d just fold them and talk. She listened more, but she shared lots too…”

“What do you talk about?”

“Just small things, like how our day went, or what our dreams were the night before. It was peaceful… and warm. My mom is very warm.”

“That’s good to hear.”

Park Jisung turned to look at him without a hint of mischief, and returned a sincere beam, “I’d love it if you could meet her properly someday.”

“Do you tell stories about me?”

Zhong Chenle finished folding the shirt and pulled another one from the pile without looking at the boy before him. He felt his breath grow heavy, scared of the words that might escape from this idiot’s lips. He, too, shared stories about them to his family, but he wasn’t particularly keen on knowing what _kinds_ of tales this boy had been telling because he spoke without filter, often losing the bridge between what’s considered friendship and… _not entirely_ friendship. Chenle was certain, however, that Mrs. Park wasn’t a fool like him. Mothers were special like that—capable of knowing every bit of everything in this world.

“You better be sharing good things about me, Park Jisung!”

“Every bit of you is good, Chenle-ya. They even told me that they’d love to have dinner with you soon.”

“ _That_ good?”

“That good.”

Zhong Chenle shifted away from his gaze once more, fiddling with the ends of the younger’s favorite flannel jacket—brushing its familiar surface, tracing the blatant dullness due to overuse, but feeling its warmth nonetheless. He waited for the boy to break the silence as he pressed the creases of the garment in his grasp only to find the muted air between them more and more suffocating than any traces of warmth delivered by one stupid, stupid boy called Park Jisung. Thus, he placed the jacket down unto the carpet and stood from his seat, but before he could bid a curt greeting, this fool—this incredibly witless fool seized his hand and stopped him from leaving.

“Chenle-ya…” Park Jisung would start, hesitant and determined all together—the collision of impossible realities existing from his being alone, “Your mom… she won’t be in Seoul, right? I heard you talking with her the other day.”

“That’s a private conversation.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I promise! I—well, I was thinking… since you’ll be alone on your birthday this year…”

Zhong Chenle felt the hand holding his scorching to the feel of his skin. He wanted to pull it away, to escape towards the familiar warmth of his Haechan-hyung and away from the… from the thunderings that Park Jisung would ensure by his attendance alone. But he was certain that if he yanked his hand away in a sudden haste, Park Jisung would sulk. Park Jisung would grow sadder and sadder than he already was, and with all the joys that colored his day all bright and warm and pink—he couldn’t bear to be the cause of this boy’s low spirits. So he held on. He stopped his craving to pull the skin around his nails. He endured the heat transpiring, sending pins and needles across every inch of his skin. He braved the challenge that stood as the figure of Park Jisung.

But of course, the boy before him was even more daring especially at the hours before the breaking of dawn.

Park Jisung drew him closer and closer, interlacing his hands with his. Even with the boy sitting before him, Zhong Chenle couldn’t help feeling tiny—tiny, powerless, and yielding to the call of this fool alone. Without failing to meet his eyes, the younger breathed, “Let’s spend it together—just you and me.”

“You've done enough already, Jisung-ah. Besides, what are we even going to do? It’s not safe for us to go outside. Where do you even plan to go—”

“It’s a secret,” Park Jisung disclosed with an uncommon determination painting his eyes that Chenle could only draw in a heavy breath before shifting his gaze to their knitted fingers fitted like they’re destined to be together forever and ever and ever, “You don’t have to do anything—it’s your special day. I have to borrow your house though—”

“You don’t even clean up afterwards! You’re gonna force me to clean on my birthday!”

“I’ll wash the dishes,” the younger spoke his promise, grasping his hands tighter to call Chenle’s eyes back to him, “I’ll wash the dishes, I’ll take out the trash. I’ll handle everything that needs to be done. You just… you just trust me, yeah?”

Zhong Chenle finally got drawn back to meet the eyes of the boy before him. He sat there with his hands fixed with the elder’s just as their souls had been ever since their first meeting all those years ago. He sat staring at him, boring a hole through his entire facade—through all the secrets that laid buried and deep within the very crevices of his being. He sat there with his lips pushed up so adorably that Chenle couldn’t win against it, couldn’t find the strength to say that he looks stupid, idiotic, or whatever crass sentiments he wished to deliver. Park Jisung got him so weak all throughout the day starting from the younger’s unusual enthusiasm to reply to his messages, the pink coat painting his day where the echoes of the birthday song sang in Chinese were still ringing in his ears down to the weight of his stare as he sat before him with their hands intertwined as fate would often tease.

Zhong Chenle gathered all of his strength to return a weak nod before whispering, “Promise me it’ll be the best.”

Squeezing their hands tighter, Park Jisung couldn’t help his thrill that it looked like he wanted to press his lips and brush their heat along the hands he was holding, whispering secrets that were all follies and fibs. But after drawing in another heavy breath, Chenle heard the younger say in a tone low and wistful—but sincere, ever so sincere just the same,

“I promise.”


	12. a word begins to live that day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung said he watched kimi no na wa the other day and coincidentally i had this [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/4WedBZTeFawYCBCgfj36iK?si=n4IawRXaSmCu90cQmWmjlA) on repeat
> 
> i was supposed to post this on cl’s birthday ( or before that even ) but well ya girl is sad so,,, lmao
> 
> the link provided is my reference for that specific scene also i just wana get this out of my system,, the language i use may be difficult to understand i am aware of that and i’m trying my best to make it more convenient for others—tho this kinda debunks the primary goal of fanfiction to write for yourself,, if ure having difficulty catching up i’ll be more than willing to discuss and explain it with u,,, this is a safe space but also pls keep it a safe space for me too bc im writing for my enjoyment,, i’m not selling these things lol it is on ur own volition to read it or not anyway i just wana remind u of that and to also be careful of your comments bc they could either be a writer’s strength or ruin
> 
> i hope u all stay safe n healthy thank u

> [ _If sleeping didn’t exist_ ](https://twitter.com/formyjisung/status/1207381074680004608?s=20)

The day before Zhong Chenle’s twentieth birthday, he was pestered by a multiple series of calls with his phone buzzing every ten minutes. He got fed up eventually and finally answered a call that kept him from sleeping restfully. Huang Renjun only said one word in Mandarin—“ _Finally_ ”—before he was met with a familiar voice, all hoarse and feeble, causing him to quickly rise up from his bed.

“What’s wrong, Park Jisung? Are you okay?”

He could only hear an incessant amount of groans before a chain of curses grew louder than Jisung’s cries of pain (?). A few seconds in and Huang Renjun was, yet again, the person at the end of the call.

“ _Come to the dorms. NOW._ ”

He wasn’t one to follow his hyung’s orders, especially Renjun’s. The boy’s deafening and vicious fits were entertaining for him to watch all day long, but Park Jisung’s state bore a heavy weight on his chest. The boy seemed to be suffering and if he wasn’t the sole bringer of his misfortunes, then he doesn’t have the right to suffer altogether.

 _I’m the only force that’s allowed to make that idiot suffer_.

Thus, quick to his feet, he grabbed the nearest jacket within his reach, slipped on a hat and mask, and ran out of his apartment before he could remember to breathe. His house was a little far from the dorms to go on foot, but similar to the rush of adrenaline that he experienced all those months ago in Indonesia, a land foreign and heated—the sharp and tangy smell of the sea enveloping them whole as they climbed further and further up to the vast stretch of the beyond, he ran. The clamor occurring in his neighborhood grew muted in his ears as he counted one, two, three, one, two, three—losing count and starting all over again. He ran and ran until he could barely feel his knees. Littered aches appeared to transpire, but that didn’t stop him from running. With a single motive ringing in his head, he took one step forward and forward and forward until he finally reached the doorway, greeting the guard posted for the morning? afternoon? whatever time of day it was. He caught his breath as he walked swiftly towards the elevator, grateful not to encounter any of the neighbors who weren’t particularly keen to live amongst very… rowdy groups of boys. Upon finally reaching the seventh floor, he tried to ignore the tremors and the shakes that appeared to crumble his foundations and drew in a heavy breath before finally knocking on the door of their dorm.

 _“Fucking finally!_ ” Huang Renjun exclaimed as he opened the door and led him past the hallways of the apartment by pulling on his jacket. Before Zhong Chenle could complain about his hyung’s rude greeting, feeling cold sweat dripping down every inch of his skin, he heard a familiar groan. With that thought, he went ahead of his hyung amidst the narrow hall, moving past his skinny frame, and found the room littered with flower petals. Small and pink petals enclosed the room with its familiar faint scent. His eyes moved past the distracting blossoms and turned to look at Na Jaemin carefully tending to a boy confined to his bed.

“You’re here,” Park Jisung weakly cried before losing himself to another coughing fit. Feeling his entire body tremble at the sight of his best friend all weak and ill, he found himself unable to speak. Shifting his gaze from the scattered pills at the bedside table to the tray his hyung was carrying, he swallowed every bit of his fear.

“Are you dying?”

Huang Renjun surprised him with a flick on his forehead accompanied by his signature string of curses. Chenle yelped out in surprise, strike dumb and shell-shocked by his hyung’s response before Na Jaemin finally filled him in, “It’s just a cold, Chenle-ya. He went to the hospital this morning.”

Before he could grasp the situation at hand, his Renjun-hyung pulled him out of the bedroom and shoved a change of clothes into his chest. He wanted to shriek out his annoyance, but looking closely at his hyung, he spied the weariness on his face. He shut his mouth tight, feeling sorry for his hyung and the responsibilities he couldn’t escape from.

“ _Take a shower before going back in_ ,” Huang Renjun said, stifling a yawn after another, “ _Wear a mask too, we can’t have you sick on your birthday. I—_ ”

For once, his gege was at a loss, probably from weariness or frustration or both as Chenle spied the dark bags under Renjun’s eyes. He waited patiently for the elder to continue, watching him let out a yawn he had been trying to fight back since his arrival. Looking back, his Jaemin-hyung also looked especially tired and he wondered if they’ve slept at all last night.

“ _Sorry, I’m just—seriously, Jisungie is always cute, but why did he have to be so difficult today? I feel like I lost twenty years of my life—just as well, I suppose. I’m tired of this world._ ” Taking off Chenle’s hat, and ruffling the bed hair off of his head, the elder continued—tired, still tired, but gentle this time, “ _You look after him for a bit, Chenle-ya. I’m sorry you have to do this today. We tried our best—we really did, but he just won’t listen. And if there’s someone he’d listen to… it’s you. Wash up, wear a mask, and smother him with a fucking pillow, yeah? He needs to sleep._ ”

His hyung shut the door of Jeno’s bedroom before he could even respond, finding himself all alone in an isolated hall. Without much thought, he followed Renjun’s orders for once and took a quick shower. The heat was welcomed especially after running block after block, out and surrounded by the cold. But after he dressed with the clothes prepared by his Renjun-hyung, he stood in front of the mirror and caught his cheeks blossoming into the rosiest shade of pink. He didn’t know what to expect when he knocked on the door of their dorm, _but this certainly wasn’t it_. He thought he had a few hours to settle his nerves, to calm the ever so tremulous quakes each time Park Jisung is in attendance. To his dismay, his stupids hyungs relied on _him_ , of all people, to tame that idiot into submission when he could barely control the words whispered in the dead of night. Taking a deep breath, he placed a mask on his face, stepped out of the bathroom, and walked towards the shared bedroom of Park Jisung and Huang Renjun. He found himself stopping, however, and considered brewing a lemon and ginger tea for the boy lying restlessly on his bed.

Staring at the clock hanging on the chalkboard wall full of notes and reminders from their managers and his members alike, he waited for the kettle to ring. Counting one, two, three, up to forty, fifty—until he lost count and started again from the very beginning, there came a ding and his frantic nerves could only be settled until he poured the hot water into Jisung’s cup. Pushing himself to approach the room occupied by the biggest idiot in the whole wide world, he found himself carrying a cup full of hot water and no teabag. He closed his eyes shut, scoffing at his worries and preoccupation, and hurried back to the kitchen to grab a bag.

“ _Why am I being weird?_ ” he would say to himself before he pushed the door open and found the same weary and pale face of Park Jisung. The shaken boy jolted himself out of his bed, which was, in Chenle’s good opinion, an exaggeration. Even so, Park Jisung _was_ the clumsiest person to have ever walked the earth, so it didn’t really come as a surprise once he considered it. He laughed, of course, as he watched the boy scowl at him and weakly pull himself up from the bed. Feeling a slight tinge of guilt, Zhong Chenle placed the cup of tea on the bedside table and helped the boy up, careful not to trace any lingering touches because… well… _germs and all._

 _Germs, nothing more_.

“Where’s Jaemin-hyung?” Zhong Chenle broke after the boy had settled in comfortably, spying the puffiness of his eyes and the stuffiness of his nose. For some reason, however, Park Jisung wouldn’t meet him. Instead, he focused on his hand reaching for the cup of stars sitting by the bedside table. Once it was settled between his palms, fitting his big, big hands around the cup, the younger shrugged evasively.

“I told him to sleep. He’s been taking care of me all morning, so I feel sorry for him.”

“You should feel sorry for me too! You called me here to take care of your spoiled ass—on a day off too!”

To his surprise, Park Jisung didn’t do his usual trick of putting up a pleading look, with his eyes all bright and sparkly and his lips pushed up into a pout. Instead, he cowered into a ball and hid his face with his hand, concealing every inch of his distress. He groaned loudly too, his voice ringing in despair that Zhong Chenle couldn’t stop himself from pulling the boy’s hand away from his face out of worry and interest as well. Park Jisung didn’t put up a fight and revealed his face flushed up to the tips of his ears, one hand tightly gripping the cup, and the other the grip of Zhong Chenle.

“My plans are ruined and I hate it so much,” he started again, all pained and troubled by an unknown haunting. He moved to hide his face once again, but Chenle was quicker, pressing his weight to overpower this boy’s impossible pull.

“What plans?”

Park Jisung stopped his whining, feeling something caught on his throat as if he revealed something he shouldn’t have. Despite his attempts to conceal his schemes, Zhong Chenle was stubborn in uncovering his secrets. The younger tried to turn away, looking particularly engrossed with the cup on his hand. His escape came to a quick halt when Chenle closed the distance in between them and peered at Jisung’s shaken eyes. He looked comical and idiotic, but even with his face flushed with fever, he still remained the most beautiful ever. Chenle managed to stand his ground, securing himself firmly in front of the boy before him. Searching his eyes, he spied Park Jisung drawing himself away but he kept pushing and pushing until the boy was left with no choice but to face him.

“You’re too close—”

“What are you hiding?”

“You’re so annoying! Don’t get too close, or you’ll get sick too!”

The boy tried to push him away, but Park Jisung was too weak to win over his hardy and unbending force. Teasing Park Jisung always brought him delight because his reactions were entertaining and adorable with his face usually flustered in the deepest shade of red.

This wasn’t any different.

“What did you do to the hyungs? They look so tired.” Chenle finally moved away, giving the younger his much needed space. He fixed his gaze at the boy before him, carefully searching every minute expression that Park Jisung was unable to conceal. Despite his attempts, Jisung found his composure after squeezing his eyes shut in an unnamed frustration and taking a sip of his tea shortly after.

“I just called your name… again and again.”

“Are you a baby?”

“I just didn’t want you to be alone,” Park Jisung said ever so simply before taking another sip of his tea. Thankful of his mask hiding his flustered face, Zhong Chenle swallowed the remaining… uneasiness that accompanied him after running block after block to their dormitory and returned an absent nod. He allowed the silence to fill in the unspoken hopes and wishes that fluttered all throughout his body. Shifting his thoughts to a more… controllable musing, he spoke again, breaking the muted air between them.

“They look really tired though,” Zhong Chenle observed, recalling the weary look of his hyungs with their eyes hollow and red-rimmed, “what did you do all night?”

“Picnic.”

“What?”

“I wanted to prepare a picnic, so Jaemin-hyung and Renjun-hyung helped me out,” Jisung would say, finally meeting his gaze. He shifted away quickly, however, and bit the rim of his cup numerous times before continuing, “Jeno-hyung just kept telling me my cooking tastes bad…”

“You cooked something… for _me_?”

“They helped me practice some Chinese recipes. I wanted to make them this morning—I wanted it to be perfect, but the hyungs noticed my fever.”

The remaining flutters collapsed every wall, every barricade that Zhong Chenle had built ever since the boy’s promise all those days ago. He found himself biting his lip out of frustration and something else he didn’t want to disclose. Another chorus of _why_ , _why_ , _why_ ran through his mind, sending out a rumbling of different degrees and decibels. He kept himself restrained, of course, even with his heartbeat mirroring the chaos inside of him.

“You’re an idiot,” he whispered, just loud enough for the younger to hear.

For some unknown reason, his defeated reply made the boy rise from the bed. Steadying the cup of tea back to the nearby table, Park Jisung rushed towards the foot of the bed, never minding the growing shrieks coming from the elder caused by shock and alarm.

“There are still sandwiches though—in the picnic basket right here,” Jisung would start, carrying the familiar basket up to his bed, “We can make ramen later.”

“Go back to bed, you idiot!” Zhong Chenle screamed as he stood from his seat and pulled the boy back to the comforts of the bed. Park Jisung had grown delusional with fever—a dangerous state, far more dangerous than his after-midnight persona. “Seriously, why did you do all this?”

“Your mom and aunties are back in China, right? You can’t go home and we have a schedule tomorrow, so I just want your birthday to be extra special.”

There was the possibility of his words failing to meet this boy’s foolish and feverish head. There was a possibility that this boy could do or say something so irreversible every beautiful thing between them would just shatter down to its ruin. There was a possibility of him catching his cold, but he pushed that thought away—finding it the least of his worries because before him sat the most idealistic and foolish boy in the entire world. He could only squeeze his eyes shut, wishing he was back in the comforts of his own bed and away from all of this wreck. From this minute reprieve, he recalled his mother’s eyes parting her goodbye. She carried a heavy heart after telling him she needed to leave, amidst the chaos that was occurring in their home country. He recalled her lingering heat as she pressed a kiss on his crown, promising to call every day if he wishes. He recalled the weight of his hand, bidding his mother and aunt farewell, and felt the emptiness of his apartment for the first time in years. Nevertheless, he understood the circumstances that his family needed to face. He understood his own circumstances, filling the silence with his deafening shrieks as he played video games for days and days and days until Qian Kun invited himself and cooked him a meal he hadn’t prepared himself. He understood. He was sad, of course, but he understood.

“I told you, remember? I’m here for you.”

Words began to live when spoken, however.

“You didn’t have to do this much…”

“Says who?”

“These flower petals, Park Jisung!” he found himself screaming, grateful for his swift wit to change the subject to something less… risky, “What are they even for?”

“I told you—it’s to recreate the picnic!”

“What’s that even mean?”

“Our picnic with the cherry blossoms… remember? At Han River? You told me it was the best day ever, and I want your birthday to be just as special.”

Despite the thoughtfulness that ran through this boy’s being, Zhong Chenle couldn’t help thinking that this would be his own undoing. He didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to prepare a special segment of This and That. He didn’t have to gather his hyungs just to have him blow out the candles on his cake. He didn’t have to buy a basketball and prepare the sweetest messages in floral wreaths. He didn’t have to recreate their picnic last spring. He didn’t have to prepare Chinese recipes just to relieve his homesickness. He didn’t have to do anything—he could’ve just called him at the last minute, and he would’ve thought of it for days and days and days.

What was he supposed to do with two days’ worth of celebration before his birthday itself?

“You didn’t have to do this,” he found himself returning, all weak and trembling from all of the chaos taking place. He gripped the sheets within his reach and tried to still himself from screaming an endless amount of crass statements to the boy before him. Park Jisung, however, pouted at him like a big baby, making Chenle weak to his knees.

“But I _wanted_ to. It’s your last birthday before adulthood.”

“I’ll still be the same—”

“ _You won’t_ ,” Park Jisung cut in a sudden haste which confused Chenle seeing as they were all growing whether they liked it or not. The dangers of living without acknowledging one’s mistakes and shortcomings were the very cause of broken hearts transpiring. Living in fantasies that disallow people to explore human experience itself—it was dangerous and idiotic and frustrating altogether.

Park Jisung couldn’t live in the land of never forever.

“You change every year.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Chenle returned, his frustration evident. He had never been a good liar whenever it came to Park Jisung. There were words left unsaid, but never lies and excuses. He considered the fear that made the boy live in such dangerous fantasies. He considered the loneliness that would come crashing when one is alone and in need of warmth. He considered the fear of change—the fear of being left behind, but _here and now_.

That’s what’s important.

“I’m not going anywhere if that’s what your stupid head is thinking.”

“We don’t know that…” the boy would whisper in resignation, gripping the sheets closer and closer to his hold. Park Jisung had always been afraid. He had always been afraid of things changing after years and years of treasuring the warmth he needed in life. Renjun once said that Dream is his youth—it was all their youth, and he wanted to look back without regrets for the decisions a mere teen had mapped for his entire life. Living in this industry had caused numerous people—the closest to them even—the deepest scars he never wished any human being to experience. Their reality is wrapped up with a limitless number of uncertainties, judgments, anxieties, and despair. Every move was a standpoint—an evaluation to the point of suffocation and they only ever had themselves to brave these challenges.

Parting was something they haven’t spoken of since Mark’s graduation.

“It’ll be just the two of us left… And soon, I’ll be alone—”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Zhong Chenle promised to the world. Standing against every opposition, he stood grounded and ready. Every tear shed will be wiped away with his warmth. Every insecurity will be overruled by an infinite series of compliments. Every promise whispered will be carried within their hearts.

“Here and now, remember?”

Park Jisung was never short of fears. Like shadows looming in the dark, they had even managed to corrupt his sweetest daydreams and fantasies. Still, words had the power to call him back. Words had the power to comfort all of the storms surfacing and raging out and about. Chenle would continue to hold out his hand until the boy was ready to answer. And as he spied the boy finally releasing the heaviness in his heart, he gave out the breath he didn’t remember holding and watched the boy finish his cup. They sat in silence, the air between them coming into a standstill, but Jisung broke the muted strain between them, “You’re amazing.”

“Of course I am. I’m me.”

He saw the boy smile for the first time today, and all the warmth just bloomed before him. Chenle gripped the sheets once again, trying his best to still his heart from beating an impossible rhythm—a rhythm that the idiot before him could hear from such a close distance. Swallowing all of his fears, he stood from his seat.

“Tangerines…” he tried to speak, unable to meet the eyes of Park Jisung of all people, “I saw some tangerines by the fridge. Would you like some?”

“I’d like that, thank you.”

With a quick nod, Chenle escaped from the suffocating warmth transpiring in the room and headed back to the kitchen for a short reprieve. He took off his mask and breathed before scanning the kitchen and reaching for the tangerines sitting on a basket. He peeled it slowly, taking his time peeling out the poor fruit resting on his hands. After the fifth was peeled and his heart rate finally steadied, he returned to the room only to find the boy settled comfortably in bed, letting the calls of sleep drift him away to his dreams. Zhong Chenle spied Jisung’s face flushed with fever and his nose runny and red, a box of tissues sitting near the bed. He stopped himself from pinching this idiot’s nose and waking him from his much needed sleep, settling to pass the time with his phone instead. A soft knock made him look up and found his Jeno-hyung standing by the door.

“He’s finally sleeping?”

“He didn’t sleep last night?”

“Only for a few hours…” Lee Jeno walked up and checked the boy’s temperature by touching his forehead, continuing, “Injunnie made congee, by the way. When he wakes up, make sure he eats it, yeah? He won’t eat the food I prepared for him earlier… said it tastes bad which is stupid because he can’t even taste anything!”

“It probably did taste bad though.”

“It did, but I tried my best.”

Zhong Chenle returned a weak chuckle before finding his hyung staring at him with a soft smile. Lee Jeno moved past the sleeping boy and pinched Chenle’s cheek, caressing it easily when it became flushed in red.

“After he eats, you can leave if you want. I’ll take it from here.”

“I can stay,” Chenle said without another beat, finding himself flustered by the eagerness in his reply. Lee Jeno only returned a knowing smile before ruffling the head of the younger and leaving the two alone once more. Chenle glanced at the sleeping boy before he heard his labored snores and turned away in a chuckle, letting the boy’s familiar breathing fill up the silence enclosing the room. After a while, he drifted to sleep as well. The second his eyes opened, however, no more snores were heard. A low humming rang until he remembered where he was, and he sat in a sudden jolt. He was surprised to see the skittish boy jumping out of fright as well. A lonely slice of tangerine fell out of his clumsy fingers and into the wooden floor.

“Poop hands,” Chenle teased before standing from his seat and reaching for the fruit sitting on the floor.

“You scared me!”

“You’re lamer when you make excuses.”

Feeling his stomach rumble, he forgot he hadn’t eaten anything today, so he grabbed the empty cup sitting on the bedside table and announced that he’s making ramen to fill their hunger. Park Jisung asked for a bottle of water as the elder walked out the door. Chenle only nodded absently, hoping there was sesame ramen stored in the cupboard. The common room remained deserted with his introverted hyungs locked inside their rooms, but he still made enough for everyone, even stir-frying the vegetables left rotting in the fridge. Chenle prepared a quick meal of sesame ramen with an egg poached in each bowl, stir-fried vegetables, and leftover kimchi before sending a message and calling his hyungs to a meal. He took the bowl of a barely eaten kimchi stew out of the tray and placed two sets of bowls and separate servings of side dishes. Then, he quickly heated the congee Renjun made on the microwave and settled it on the tray, steadying himself as he walked back to the room where Park Jisung laid.

“Water too,” Park Jisung said after he laid the tray on the bedside table. And because the boy asked for it politely, he didn’t counter it with a tease. Instead, he ran back to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water sitting on the kitchen island.

“Hot…” Park Jisung said as Chenle entered the room, the tip of his tongue out to relieve himself from the heat of the noodles. Chenle handed him his bottled water and chuckled lightly.

“You must be bad at kissing,” he carelessly returned, not realizing he dug his own grave from his very statement alone. Park Jisung looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed together, staring blankly at him in confusion. He looked both stupid and adorable that Chenle could only stuff himself with vegetables to hide the blush coloring both his cheeks.

“What?”

“Ten-hyung once told me that people with sensitive tongues can’t use them well. You know that—that thing people do to say they’re good at kissing? The cherry knot?”

He should have stopped when he said the word _kiss_ , but his hunger did make him careless and stupid and dumb and—

“We don’t have cherries…” Park Jisung would say, his gaze unfaltering, “but you’re here.”

Zhong Chenle suddenly felt his face heat up, yet that didn’t stop him from further digging his grave deeper and deeper until he reached the point of no return, “And?”

The boy was easy to predict. Chenle knew Park Jisung would use this opportunity to say something stupid. Even after he had thoughtfully served him a healthy meal and had taken care of him for the better part of the day, Park Jisung remained Park Jisung.

Ever so cheeky and shameless—a boy so obsessed with his delusions.

“[Wanna check if I really am bad… at kissing, I mean](http://www.mangago.me/read-manga/sasaki_to_miyano/nbt/tr_chapter-8/pg-12/)?”

Despite the blush rising up to the tips of his ears, Zhong Chenle only took a deep breath and continued to stuff his mouth with food. The boy was smirking, of course—his audacity a raging havoc even with a fever and a runny nose. Greatly annoyed, Chenle refused to look at Park Jisung and preoccupied himself with his stir-fried vegetables.

“Go on and eat your food, or I swear I’ll hit you.”

“I’ll take the hit,” the boy returned without skipping a beat. Taking another deep breath, Zhong Chenle finally met the younger’s gaze, and with a calm face, he said, “One more word, and I’ll leave you to rot here.”

That shut the idiot up.

Though his cheeky smirk remained unmissed, Chenle thanked the silence that settled in between them. He ate his noodles despite his loss of appetite from that exchange alone and made a quick mental note never to mention the words kiss and crush and dating and marriage anywhere near Park Jisung.

But that didn’t stop the boy from being an idiot.

They were in constant banter since late afternoon. Park Jisung wouldn’t shut up about the sandwiches in the picnic basket, so Chenle had thoughtfully eaten two of them. They were the same sandwiches he taught him to make all those months ago. He added too much jam, but the taste remained okay—good even, but he didn’t say it aloud. The boy had far too much ego already and it infuriated Chenle greatly! Park Jisung thought that just because he was sick, he could get away with anything. Of course, he already got away with a lot of things even when he was well and healthy because he was the youngest in their group and the hyungs all had a soft spot for him. This made him more insolent and spoiled, but it was too late. The boy had grown to think that his actions brought no circumstances. His cheek was often harmless, mostly being far too comfortable with his hyungs. Either he would drop the honorifics and speak to them casually, or he would sneak away when chores were being done. Usually, it was harmless, but with Chenle… it was different. And a boy who had drunk far too much cough syrup than recommended was the worst foe to challenge the towers Chenle had considerably built to keep the peace between their friendship.

When night came and Chenle decided he’d sleep over at their dorm, Park Jisung—the biggest idiot in the entire universe, got annoyed with his coughing fits so he drank and drank and drank the cough syrup bought by their manager-hyung, leaving him delirious both from fever and medicine.

It was a disaster.

“I like you,” the boy would say in an animated state. Jisung was talkative—he always had a lot to say, and Chenle was willing to listen to him go on and on with his thoughts.

But not like this.

“ _I like you so much!_ ”

“That’s your fever speaking, Park Jisung,” Chenle would return in defeat, trying to stop the boy from getting out of his bed for the seventh? eighth? time this evening. His hyungs helped, of course, but after the second time Jisung screamed that he “liked” him, Chenle tossed his hyungs out of the room from sheer embarrassment. He was grateful that his hyungs were decent as if there was an unspoken agreement that whenever Jisung gets like… well… _this_ , no further comments will be added. He was grateful, yet he was still embarrassed by his best friend.

It was cruel of him too, but Chenle kept that thought to himself.

“I’d say it again after it’s gone.”

“Do you know the word ‘conscience,’ Jisung-ah?” He heard himself say the words sharper than he would’ve hoped, but he was tired and sleepy and hungry, and Jisung kept being a fool. Park Jisung was a fool. Park Jisung was a fool. _Park Jisung was so, so cruel_.

“I like you,” the boy returned, quieter this time, but still shared the same tenacity from his earlier attempts. Chenle only released a heavy breath, shutting his eyes quickly and counting one to ten. After taking a few seconds of solace, he was back to humoring the boy before him as he tucked the overgrown baby under his blanket.

“I wonder what’s that annoying sound I keep hearing.”

For a second, Park Jisung slowed to a stop. He felt the boy’s stare on him, steady and unblinking, but Chenle tried to ignore it nonetheless. He must have said something wrong, but looking up and expecting to see a pout, Park Jisung just stared at him unsmilingly and his heartbeat raced in a rapid rhythm.

“What?”

Chenle shifted his gaze away, but the boy remained unfazed. Instead, Park Jisung traced the elder’s fingertips, brushing his suffocating warmth until Chenle pulled away with a strained cough. The tension between them was inevitable, especially with Park Jisung so determined with his false pretenses.

“You’re good at doing that, no?”

Chenle finally stared back at him, seeing his face still feverish and pale, but his eyes remained… odd and penetrating. The elder’s jaw clenched and his stomach tied in knots, unable to tell what exactly was he feeling but his annoyance was present. Especially when Park Jisung was in attendance.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, Park Jisung shifted back to his animated and untamable state.

Chenle wasn’t certain which one was worse.

In whatever temper, he felt bare and _seen_ —he felt very much seen, and he couldn’t stop the pins and the needles, the knots forming, the clashes and storms—he couldn’t stop the realities from happening. He was seen to the point of exposure, to the point of devour, and he could only close his eyes shut and count one, two, three—until he would lose count.

There was no stopping the boy, however.

“I’ll say it again and again—later, tomorrow, next week! I’ll say it forever if you’ll let me.”

“Go to sleep, Park Jisung,” Chenle returned in a cutting tone, his weariness clear and plain. Park Jisung noticed, of course, he would always notice. _Especially when it comes to you_ , he recalled his Jeno-hyung’s unspoken words all those months ago. And he wasn’t wrong. For a boy who always wanted to be seen, who didn’t care who would see, it’s different when it came to him.

“I’m sorry,” Park Jisung said in a haste, looking fearful and guilty for once this evening, “I’m sorry, Chenle-ya.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You won’t leave?”

He didn’t miss the boy’s voice cracking, his eyes pleading, nor his face growing paler than before. Zhong Chenle noticed the boy’s body stiffen, ready to run after him if he decides to leave. Park Jisung should know better than to doubt Chenle’s promises of never leaving his side.

“I won’t. But say one more word, and I’m not going to talk to you for a week.”

The boy’s shoulders drew back, dropping in comfort and relief. His hands, arms—his entire body lightened in ease. His smile appeared again, all gummy and true, and everything inside Chenle just _moved_. A sharp pang came quickly, straining him from speaking, moving—even to the point of breathing. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rush out of the room and run away from this penetrating feeling. But looking at Jisung smiling at him reminded him why he chose to stay. He could call it magic, call it warmth. He knew the real name of it, however, so he just pressed his lips together and let the tenderness envelop between them.

“One more word,” the boy spoke again, tucked in and sleepy on his bed. Chenle could only scoff at his cheek, but he knew in his heart that he would still give in.

“You’re too much.”

“Just this once.”

Park Jisung had finally settled in, ready for the calls of sleep to give him the sweetest of dreams. Despite this, the boy remained insistent. And in defeat, Chenle could only return a curt nod before he watched his world turn once more.

“ _Happy birthday_ , Chenle-ya.”

Chenle was at a loss, unable to say or do anything in response. What feared him the most was his initial response to draw himself close and lean in—he wanted to lean in and just give in. He wanted to feel the heat he’s been craving every time he forgot himself and stared at the boy’s lips moving. Repulsed by his daydreams, he quickly fished his phone out of the pocket to confirm that it truly was the 22nd of November.

Finally finding his voice, he muttered a soft, “Thank you” before looking up and seeing Jisung smile once more. His face grew less pale, his eyes arched and kind, and his smile…

Even if Chenle found himself a wreck from all of… _this_. Even if everything he had in place was all jumbled and tangled. Even with all the constant aches—his smile, his warmth— _him_ , every little thing about him, that was all he needed. As the day drifted to a close, he answered his mother’s call and uttered the words for the first time ever,

_“Mama, I’m in love.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> take a shot every time chenle closed his eyes or counted in frustration lol


	13. fearing it so long had made it dear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i suggest listening to this [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/1rDwhSVwFFkSv1ub0Haa5I?si=A5N8Jx1TSOWz5RB2GKgmvA) while reading ;; i like the idea of chenle being so close with his mom he talks to her about crushes n first loves lol ( im not this comfortable with my mom lol barely talk to her tbh but i like the idea of having a good relationship with ur parents ;; chenle's blessed with love and it's what he deserves ;; )
> 
> also brb im fucking crying bc of [mark's update](https://t.co/z7CezamCHi) with daegal huhu

> _ The time flies so fast, it’s already 1122 _

He heard a breath, contained and held in, but this he knew for certain: his mother was smiling in glee and he could only wallow in his own misery.

Chenle could see her eyes crinkle in joy, or mischief even—lighting up out of excitement. Her lips would lift upward, struggling to keep her giggles at bay after hearing her youngest’s confession of love. _Love_ —of all things to proclaim. He could see his mother press her lips to keep herself from asking more. She was eager, of course, but she knew her son through and through so with an encouraging tone, she returned,

“ _Did something good happen toda_ y?”

Zhong Chenle locked himself inside Jaemin's bedroom after Park Jisung had finally fallen asleep. His hyung insisted that he should take a rest after discovering him staring blankly at the television screen without a single blink. Chenle’s eyes were red from weariness and exposure, causing the elder’s alarm. After assuring his Jaemin-hyung that he was just weary from lack of sleep, he found himself tucked in before he knew it. Jaemin’s bed was warm, scarcely decorated with a lone bunny plushie sitting near the wall and smelled faintly of peaches—a scent he had grown accustomed with over the years of acquaintance and friendship. He considered sleeping, tossing and turning his body over and over, but even with this much warmth—even with the exhaustion resting heavily on his eyes, he couldn’t sleep.

His mother called him out of his quandary, and without a second thought, he answered her call by greeting her with a confession.

Instead of answering, however, he returned a question,

“ _What’s love to you, mama?_ ”

 _“You’re love, my darling_ ,” his mother said without skipping a beat, “ _You’re my sun and stars._ ”

He considered her answer thoroughly, recalling the times Park Jisung grew bright enough to light up his world.

And he did.

Though… if someone were to ask him who he considered as the sun, his immediate reply would be his Haechan-hyung. Like his namesake, the boy was radiant. Boisterous and round laughter would ring in his ears, sending a chill through his spine, but like magic, people would find themselves in a fit of laughter as well. His voice was heated and scorching, often in a brink of fire and havoc, but it was warm as well. His blinding splendor could tempt a person to come closer and discover the world with him, reveling in the bright delights of this great stretch and beyond. His Mark-hyung also shared a similar warmth. Different, but just the same as well. Mark shined like the sun gleaming through the windows, calling to share the secrets they had buried and hidden deep within. His warmth lifted people up like the lasting embers of a campfire, promising them warmth in the darkest and coldest of nights. It was also his mother who was calling to accompany him in the first hour of being nineteen. The mere sound of her smile was a reminder of home and comfort and every bit of love in the universe. His sun and stars were also his father who taught him to be kind and true, his brother who helped him memorize the recipes of their home. They were his nephew, his aunts, his friends, Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Kun, Taeil—

 _“Is that what it is? Your sun and stars?_ ” he asked quietly, lost at the thought of uncovering the warmth within his treasured people. He could hear his mother smile through the phone again and for some reason, he found the heaviness in his heart eased like an unknown spell.

“ _It’s different for everyone, and it’s different with every person too._ ”

Zhong Chenle stared at the dark ceiling before him, taking in the frequencies surrounding him—the static noise of a phone call from hundreds of miles away, the soft humming of the space heater sitting near the bed, the low grumble of his stomach from eating spicy noodles before anything else. He didn’t expect a fundamental answer to his question, but _yes_ —love was different for everyone. They would come in a variety of existences, often overlapping and something that could be grouped and shared, but the experience remained distinct.

He supposed that was the very beauty of being.

“ _I… yeah. About your question… it's not much, to be honest. There’s just… there’s just this idiot—it’s not a girl, by the way._ ”

“ _Duly noted, my love._ ”

“ _He was—he was just being an idiot, as usual, but I…_ ” he found his voice faltering, scared of repeating the words already said out into the world. But he took a deep breath and plucked up the courage he spent years harboring until he believed himself as someone brave and daring, “ _Mama, I’m in love._ ”

“ _Why do you sound so upset, my darling?_ ”

His mother’s question induced his frustrations to escape—every plight, every confusion, every fear unbounded for once. He wasn’t one to hold back his feelings especially when his hyungs coddled him enough to be a little spoiled and lawless even. Zhong Chenle was aware that he sometimes grew more enthusiastic and complacent, but Park Jisung was worse because he _chose_ to proceed with whatever whims he had in mind. Unlike him, the boy was conscious of his actions, Jisung just didn’t have the conscience to think of their circumstances.

Secretly yearning for his best friend would’ve been more… tolerable if Park Jisung didn’t give him hope. It would’ve been easier if the boy didn’t answer his calls late at night, talking to him about nothing and everything at the same time. It would’ve been easier if there was some unspoken distance especially during broadcasts, so he didn’t have to worry about his heart leaping out of his chest every time. It would’ve been easier if the boy didn’t whisper follies and fibs— _I miss you_ ; _I like you_ ; _I’m here for you_ ; _You are everything bright and warm_ ; _Because of you, the sky is never dark anymore_ —the same follies and fibs that led him to hope for something that could ruin everything. Zhong Chenle bit his bottom lip, images of that boy’s idiotic lips—always so full and inviting—ran through his mind. Before he began to delve deeper, wondering what the boy might taste like and if his lips were just as warm as all the rest of him, a short fuse broke. He let out an internal scream, surprising himself to hear how loud and screeching his voice appeared.

“ _Because I am!_ ” he cried far too loudly before he remembered his mother at the other side of the call and softened his tone with his frustrations still laid apparent and exposed, “ _Of all people—why **him**_?”

“ _That’s out of our control, unfortunately. Though… we can always choose what to do about it._ ”

 _“I want it all to stop. I just want everything to stop. I just want to be his friend—someone who can stay by his side without all this stupid nonsense. He’s too important for a gamble! At least, as a friend, I can be with him forever. I’ll make sure of it unless…_ ”

He found himself choking after another fear caught on his throat. Multiple possibilities may occur in a year’s time—maybe in a month, a week, or a day even. Maybe tomorrow Park Jisung would wake up thinking he preferred banana over strawberry milk or he wished to adopt a baby cat he found on the street or he wanted a new best friend to explore the world beside him. Maybe he would wake up one day falling in love with someone just as lovely as him.

Multiple possibilities, multiple reactions, multiple experiences, and Zhong Chenle was ready—excited even—to see through them all. He just wished there wasn’t a possibility of losing his best friend in the process.

“ _What do you think I should do_?”

“ _I’m afraid that isn’t my place to say_.”

“ _I’m scared,_ ” he confessed with a heavy breath, feeling beaten and tired from months and months of picking up the mental walls of his blockade—the very hurdles that prevented him from ruining the precious days he shared with the boy of his dreams. He was always so scared when it’s about him, he began to wonder if he was brave in the first place. “ _I’ve known this for a while now. I know I like him. But this… this is different. I was so scared of finally saying it out loud that I kept saying to myself that it’s not real. This isn’t real. It was just—I don’t know… bellyaches or something. Like eating too many spicy noodles._ ”

“ _That’s an interesting analogy._ ”

“ _I… I’ve always felt warm when I’m with him. Not just that, of course. When I’m with him, I’m always ready to explode because he’s foolish and dumb and just so frustrating, but I’m also ready to just sit beside him and—this is stupid._ ” He could feel the heat coloring his cheeks pink after his thoughts ran an image of them, with their face wrinkled and their hair grey—bald even, for his hair was truly in a dreadful state. The same arched eyes and the same gummy smile would stare at him, tracing his image like the very picture of the heavens, and in turn, he would do the same. His hand would creep closer and closer, brushing his heat and warmth against the younger and promising him the entire world with a whisper. There would be no more fears, no more dread, or any uncertainties that continued to haunt him—it would be just them, holding hand and hand, and taking in the world with every step.

It was a dream.

_And that was all it’ll ever be._

_“Your feelings will never be stupid, my love,”_ his mother was quick to assure him, picturing her brows furrowed in disagreement and her lips pulled in a sulk. Always the champion of considering people’s feelings, a trait Chenle was proud to say he inherited from her most.

 _“It is… when it’s about **him**.” _No name escaped his lips, but sure enough, his mother knew his secrets. Words left unsaid, yet he laid transparent to the person who loved him best, “ _You know who it is, don’t you?_ ”

_“I had my suspicions…”_

He wasn’t even surprised at this point, but he was grateful that she was welcoming—encouraging even—at the thought of it. Talking to his mother was grating sometimes because she did nothing but fret, but she was still one of his most favorite people, feeling the warmth of her fingertips caressing his hair even with the distance between them.

_“How did you know?”_

_“You’ve always been a very good boy, very supportive to your members, but… I’ve never heard you talk about someone’s skills as much as you talk about him.”_

Another fuse broke, his chest tightening before beating in an unsteady rhythm. Thoughts ran, memories of the tall boy crumbling to the ground after failing to perfect the dance on the first try. Belittling every performance he had ever done, sharp and critical words would escape from his lips—words he wouldn’t dare say to anyone, he would say to himself. Sudden rounds of self-deprecation followed by awkward laughter. Cruel and guttural, but his cracked voice was heard by anyone willing to listen.

And Chenle heard him all throughout to the point of promising that every tear falling, every insecurity creeping and haunting Park Jisung even to his dreams—all of them would be stripped off as he held out his hand, waiting for the boy to answer him.

 _“He’s very insecure and it’s irritating because he never sees how amazing he is,”_ Zhong Chenle would hear himself shriek to the phone. He would often watch the boy he loves fretting over his fringe, tilting his head in a side-to-side rhythm with the purpose of shifting his entire being away from anyone looking. If Chenle tried to meet his eyes, the boy would quickly dart his gaze aside, the tightness on his neck and jaw laid apparent as he continued to occupy his hands with the hair near his ears. A being capable of making so much magic—so much grandeur and wonder—would stand awkwardly and restlessly as if he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Moving closer, however, just enough for the boy to meet his presence, Zhong Chenle would mutter a seemingly-offhand comment about the boy’s growth—be it his singing growing more and more stable, his ability to memorize a difficult step from a new choreography, or just a nagging reminder not to sleep too late at night.

Just a single reminder that he was looking, that he _cared_ , and Park Jisung would turn to stare at him with his lips slowly parting, preparing to mouth a word—a cheeky retort probably, only to offer a burst of unrestrained laughter in response.

_“So suddenly?”_

_“It’s because you’re an idiot.”_

Jisung’s face would soften in a swift second, his body much lighter and airy than before. A touch, a small and simple touch would reach Chenle with the younger’s fingers tracing the tips of his hand, softly caressing it as something so fragile and frail before turning to meet his eyes once again.

Park Jisung would return a smile, all gummy and true, and Chenle’s entire being would just move.

_Every time._

How could a smile—a mere smile be capable of such magic?

_“He’s really the biggest fool. When I told him you really liked his voice, he couldn’t stop smiling until the next morning! Mama, I’m in love—I’m in love. I’m in love. **I’m in love!** And it’s so frustrating! Everything about him is just so frustrating, but everything about him is warm too.” _

_“How do you feel now that you’ve said it?”_

The question forced him to a standstill. Even with his chest growing tighter and tighter to the point of suffocation, even with his lips trembling out all of his frustrations, even with the pressure of his gritted teeth speaking through forced restraint because all he wanted to do was scream—time stood still.

He felt it moving, however, after spying a stray tear falling down his cheek.

Quickly stirring himself up from the bed, he rushed to open the doors of the balcony and breathed in the winter chill approaching before him. He would never forgive himself if he cried over _this_ of all things.

Not when it’s about the biggest idiot in the entire universe.

He shook his head, hoping to push away every stupid feeling out of his body. A hopeless case, of course, since he had been trying to shake off every writhing sensation since he realized the possibility of liking his best friend _of all people_. With his chest hitching, straining himself to offer a response even if his voice wouldn’t stop quivering out of frustration, hopelessness, and fear above all else, he continued, _“I’m scared. I’m so scared of taking a different step when I’m not even sure if there’s gonna be another one. I’m scared of losing what we already have. I could lose him forever and I’m really not okay with that.”_

Spying at the faint view of Han River sitting before him, its calm waters accompanying the sounds of people walking, jogging, resting along its banks in the dead of night, Zhong Chenle took a deep breath. The cold air seeped through his thin clothing, spreading an array of discomfort and ache all throughout his body. It was cutting how the wind continued to linger before another bit his skin, but even with his teeth chattering, he remained rigid and still. Chenle knew he was stubborn to a fault, ever so determined to watch his will to come into being. Despite the constant tingling that continued to pierce, cracked lips trembling, and shoulders curling up into a ball, he waited for his mother’s response.

It was peculiar how the sound of his mother’s voice could surround him with so much warmth. Miles and miles apart with an hour difference between them, his mother drew herself as if she was sitting beside him right at this minute. Instead of the cold, he felt enveloped by her embrace, tiny—such a tiny person but her figure stood tall, challenging the heights of the greatest towers of the world.

_“I think… this is already a step though. You don’t have to do everything all at once. You said it yourself, my darling, it was already scary to admit with your own words that you are in love. This is already a courageous feat, so breathe. Take a deep breath and feel the love you have for him come alive, even if it’s just for tonight.”_

He felt his eyes dampen, dreading for the next day to come. The cold returned, more biting and piercing than ever, and Chenle could only stand gripping the freezing metal railing before him. Exhaustion came crashing, making his knees grow limp and the bag under his eyes heavier than ever.

 _“I’ll still be scared tomorrow,”_ he managed to croak, quiet and low, meeting the stillness of the air around him, but like a spell breaking a horrid curse, his mother spoke once again.

_“Yes, but at least you have overcome your fears tonight.”_

Here and now.

What’s important was here and now. For a tomorrow filled with uncertainties, accompanied by the constant presence of dread and fear, he managed to defeat the growing hurdles that stood before him right at this minute. Zhong Chenle slumped his body against the wall, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes for a short reprieve. He watched his breath curve amidst the approaching winter chill, feeling all the tension inside of him be soothed with ease as his mother continued, “ _Take a step, my love. Small steps if you’re scared, yes? When you’re ready, you’ll find the choice you need to make.”_

His mother stopped short, however, hesitant to continue her train of thought.

 _“What is it?”_ he urged her to go on, curious as to what had made his mother stall. With the breath of her smile, kind and patient, but stern as well—a nuance of her nagging tone heard even with their distance, _“Though… I do suggest you don’t conclude all on your own, especially about another person’s feelings.”_

First, there was a spark, then a memory. A candle lit, scented with everything green and crisp, and two boys attempting to share a single bed in a hopeless effort. Words lost in translation, but for some unknown reason, he managed to conjure a meaning despite being weary in exhaustion.

_You’re not one to say the depths of your mark, Chenle-ya. Especially when it's from another person's heart._

Zhong Chenle found himself frowning from remembering a peculiar memory with his chest tightening into a suffocating hold and his body heat rising despite the persisting cold. His mother knew something he didn’t, like Jisung did all those months ago.

But Park Jisung was filled with follies and fibs, so he asked the person he trusted with his entire being, _“What’s that mean?”_

His mother tried to suppress her giggle, but her mischief laid apparent nevertheless. He was certain she sat with a wide grin and eyes lit and sparkling, like how she acted whenever she noticed her eldest son flirting with his wife or whenever she was watching one of her favorite evening dramas.

_“Small steps, my love, and suppose take a look as well.”_

_“That’ll do nothing but give me false hopes—he **already** gives me false hopes!”_

Releasing the chuckle she had been holding since the beginning of the call, Zhong Chenle felt the heat creep up to the tips of his ears, down to the back of his neck. He tried to speak, but his mother’s laughter continued to ring in his ears—a symphony he had loved since the very beginning, but his mother was poking fun and he could only cup his face with his free hand in embarrassment. After a while, her laughter subdued. Still smiling, still painted in glee and amusement, his mother spoke again,

_"Small steps, Lele my darling. Small steps at a time.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday lol i wrote chapter 3 on my birthday last year and that was the start of the angst in this fic bc lmao i was ( still am ) a sad bean but !! im trying tho lol im rly trying my best ;;;;; at least im ( kinda ) in a good state today ( even if the state of the world is honestly on the brink of collapse ),, tomorrow we'll never know but yeah ;;

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ STREAM [RIDIN](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vofjeJvRT9c) ☆
> 
> listen to my boy chenle's [radio show](https://youtu.be/cseb1WG15ZA) 9PM to 10PM KST everyday !!
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bertiesbeebox) if u want !!
> 
> lmao i also make [video edits](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCS-T5oquVXMGnIOr8y8W1Qw?view_as=subscriber) check it out if u want lol


End file.
